


The Happy Domesticity of the Slightly Evil and Mildly Insane

by Logos_Faber



Series: Stark Raving Lannister [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, More character tags as I remember who I'm adding to this story.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Logos_Faber/pseuds/Logos_Faber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One big happy family...or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This is a non-profit work of fiction for the amusement of other fans.

No infringement is intended.

Logos Faber

o0o

The dappled afternoon light filtering through the canopy of tall pine trees dimmed from a warm afternoon glow to lengthening suspicious shadows as the afternoon slowly died. Night was coming earlier and earlier in the day as Autumn gave way to Winter. The Maesters said three years, Ser Jamile Lannister doubted it would take so long.

Jamie shook his head in silent denial when the man riding at the head of the double column of knights twisted around in his saddle to see if they would soon stop to make camp. Jamie was determined that the riders winding through the forest at a bouncing trot would reach Riverrun Castle before they were enveloped in total darkness.

A howl echoed like distant thunder echoed through the trees flanking the King's Road. A wolf. A very big wolf judging by the timber of the throaty rumble. Prince Tommen Baratheon’s horse whinnied and danced sideways restlessly when the boy prince jerked sharply on its reins.

“What was that?” The Prince looked about nervously and huddled down in his crimson cloak like a child hiding in the covers of his cot.

“A wolf,” Jamie snapped curtly.

The Lord Commander of the King's Guard could tell the knights close enough to have heard Prince Tommen's squeaky voice were laughing. Ser Jamie could they were laughing from the way their shoulders shook as they tried not to guffaw out loud at the boy’s cowardice.

The men who laughed at Prince Tommen were torn from their mother's arm as boys of seven and thrust into ten years hard unpaid service learning the art of war from a seasoned knight. By Tommen's age the armed knights of the Prince's escort had learnt to hide their fear and ride straight into the jaws of death on command.

They had not penitence or respect for a fat pampered princeling with milk for blood.

A second howl - much closer to the road than the one before - answered the first wolf.

Prince Tommen jerked his horse’s head sharply as he looked in the direction of the second wolf. Brienne had to reach out and grab the bridle of Tommen’s horse to keep it from rearing up on its hind legs to throw the frightened royal boy off its back.

“It’s just two wolves having a chat, my Lord,” Lady Brienne said to reassure Prince Tommen. “Nothing you need be concerned with.”

She released the reins and reached out to caress the mane of Tommen’s palfrey to soothe it. Ser Jamie had chosen the horse for Prince Tommen personally. It was a good tempered, calm animal with a smooth gait. Prince Tommen’s skittishness would have rattled the nerves of a rock.

Tommen was not as easily mollified as his mount. With fear wide eyes peering into the growing darkness between the scaly bark the pine tree he asked,” Do you think, do you think they are following us?”

“For a time perhaps. Before long they will scent a deer. Or rabbit. Or something else easier to catch than armored knights on horseback,” Lady Brienne assured Prince Tommen. "Then they will leave off trailing us to hunt stalk prey."

Prince Tommen was still not reassured. “Do we have to go this way? Perhaps we would be safer on the river? We could take a boat to Castle Riverrun. Maester Pycelle says Castle Riverrun is built in the middle of the river. Would it not be better -”

Tommen was taxing Jamie's patience. He complained of being saddle sore after only a day on the road. He whined about sleeping on the ground even though he had a tent and a straw pallet. He picked at his food because it was a little singed by the campfire. He flinched at every shadow and noise.

“We will get there faster by the King’s Road,” Ser Jamie said more harshly than he intended.

Prince Baratheon shrank four inches in his saddle.

“We’re less than a day away now,” the Lord Commander went on in a milder tone.

Prince Tommen Baratheon was not making a good impression on the men he would someday have to command or his uncle and secret father, the Lord Commander of the King's Guard. The boy was a fat, craven disgrace.

Thankfully Brienne possessed Mother Mercy’s own patience.

“The sun is low, can you still read the map sire? We depend upon you to keep us on course you know.”

Distracted from his fear and his Uncle Jamie’s censure Prince Tommen perked up immediately. He eagerly rummaged in the satchel at his side. Prince Tommen quickly produced his rolled up map and unfurled it hastily. Brienne rode closer to him to help the prince identify their place on the map by the landmarks they had passed.

It was a pity Brienne had no desire to become a wife and mother. She had the temperament to be a superior helpmate and nurturer. Pity she was not pretty enough to attract a man. 

Jamie dug his heels into his mount’s flanks. He spurred his horse forward to the head of the column of riders to take the spot next to Master Qyburn. The disgraced maester was the only healer who could be persuaded to take the perilous journey through the Riverlands with Prince Tommen's company of knights.

Ser Jamie Lannister liked Master Qyburn; not just because Qyburn saved Jamie's arm from amputation. The man was well educated and inclined to share his wisdom if prompted. After a life time of his clever brother Tyrion's company, Jamie Lannister appreciated interesting conversation and astute observations.

The King’s Road crested a low hill and abruptly for forest ended. A wide flood spread out before them at the bottom beyond of the hill. Newly planted fields crisscrossed the land rows neat as wet combed hair. The green stalks of grain were tended to be toy size peasants with hoes and buckets.

Flocks of fluffy sheep, shaggy goats, and fat lumbering cows moved slowly across the meadows of clover outside the planted fields followed by children and herd dogs. The King’s Road from the tree line of the forest to the village was lined with saplings that would one day grow to shade the way.

A tall city wall manned with archers, encircled Rivendel and Laketon; the cities on either side of the wide river. They could see white plaster covered brick and grey stone buildings and houses lining straight roads of each settlement. Each structure was built atop stone pillars in deference to the seasonal river flooding. 

Castle Riverrun was built in the middle of the wide lake where the north fork of the Tumble Stones river met the south branch of the Red Fork river. The castle's triangular curtain walls rose straight up from the smooth water's surface then curved slightly outward. A clever defense to prevent people from scaling the walls. 

Riverrun’s three tower keeps spiraled skyward in a twist like a unicorn's horn. Their blue granite walls were dotted with stained glass windows like chips of semi-precious stones on a lady’s dress. The bridges that connected the castle and its two cities on the north and south banks looked like lace from a distance.

“If I had not fought and bled on the soil myself, I would not believe this land had recently hosted a war.”

Jamie was impressed with the sheer orderliness of the castle and settlements that lay before him like a picturesque tapestry. 

“It is amazing what a man can accomplish when motivated to impress his pretty young wife,” Master Qyburn agreed.

“What do you mean by that sir?”

“Isn’t it obvious?,” Qyburn asked mildly. “From what I have heard your brother, Lord Tyrion never showed much inclination toward pursuing anything besides drinking and wenching before Lady Sansa became his wife. It seems your brother is one of those rare men who is substantially improved by marriage.”

“You forget, Tyrion was Hand of the King and Master of Coin before he married Sansa Stark. He did a commendable job in both offices.”

“I’m sure he did amazing things - in the vain hope of impressing the lovely Lady Sansa. Alas young women are more enamored of knights in shining armor than men in public office. I heard Lord Tyrion rallied the troops then personally lead the vanguard when Stannis attacked King's Landing even though he was outnumbered.”

“Tyrion was defending the whole city from traitor Stannis Baratheon. Not championing the Stark girl. Tyrion never looked at her twice before they were married. She’s not his type.”

“Your brother stood his ground when the Hound Clegane and men of...greater consequence,” Jamie knew Qyburn meant King Joffrey. “Ran away in fear of their lives.”

“I assure you Tyrion was fighting for our sister, Cersei and her children. We Lannisters are devoted to each other." 

Master Qyburn’s look was disbelieving without being disrespectful.

“He could have easily hid with your sister and her children. Or even spirited himself and them across the sea to safety. I believe Lord Tyrion chose to stand his ground and fight to prove himself to his lady fair. Ahh the foolishness of a man smitten with delusions of love. Not that his daring feats of bravery did him much good.”

“Tyrion trained with the same Master of Arms who taught me the sword.” Jamie did not like it when people implied Tyrion was helpless. The meek and weak did not last at Casterly Rock. “Before he was grievously injured Tyrion acquitted himself with honor on the field of battle. Every man who survived has said so.”

“I have heard a rumor that the Lady Sansa made frequent visits to his sick room. Small wonder Lord Tyrion made a miraculous recovery.”

“He had the attention of Maester Pycelle -”

“Pycelle and his sycophants reserved their attentions for the patients who could pay them the most.Your sister politely declined to finance Lord Tyrion’s treatment. He survived because his squires carried him to the Sept of Baelor for treatment. The holy order’s standard of care is abysmal, but are at least they are attentive and clean.”

“You could have done better?”

“I saved your arm did I not? I’m sure I could be of some help to Lord Tyrion, even now.”

There was Qyburn’s interest in the matter revealed. Qyburn wanted to be introduced to Tyrion by Jamie, with the idea that he could make Tyrion’s facial scarring less horrific. Jamie did not fully trust Qyburn. However if Qyburn could help Tyrion, Jamie would be grateful and Tyrion would be drawn close to the family as a consequence.

Jamie’s did not have time to reply to Master Qyburn. His out rider came galloping up to meet the column of knights and servants leaving a cloud of dust hanging in the air behind him like morning mist. Jaime held up a clenched fist to stop the forward motion of his column of knights to wait for him.

He and Master Qyburn urged their horses forward to meet the scout.

“Lord Commander,” the knight saluted as he reined in his horse before Jaime’s mount.

“What news Ser Kettleblack?”

There were three Kettleblack brothers. Jamie could not tell them apart. They were uniformly big, dark men with the low cunning of sell-swords. Cersei swore they were true knights, and more skilled than most Lannister bannermen. She insisted Jamie take two of them on his journey to Castle Riverrun to help protect Tommen.

“We are expected Lord Commander. They’ve got rooms ready and hot food waiting for us.”

“How could that be?” Jamie asked astounded.

“We’ve been riding hard, practically sleeping in the saddle for days! We sent no word - I thought this was a clandestine venture?” Qyburn directed the question to Jamie, but the Lord Commander had no answers.

They had slipped out of the King's Landing in small groups that joined up deep in the Crownland's woods. They had skirted villages and cross-road inns to avoid attracting attention to themselves. Jamie had not even told them where they were going until this morning, yet somehow his father’s plan was betrayed.

“Dunno. I was told to shivvy you along. Dinner starts at 7 sharp. If we are not at the table we’ll have naught but tap ale, cold meat and cheese.”

“Who told you that?” Jamie demanded sharply.

“Ser Brynden Tully. Says he is Lady Sansa’s uncle, and Lord Governor of the Riverlands. Met me on the outskirts of that city yonder with a legion of men behind him. He wanted to escort us in. Didn’t think you’d like that. I told him that was unnecessary. He said I could have it my own way, but they’d not hold dinner for us if we tarried.”

“That’s the old Tully charm for you,” Ser Jamie Lannister said sourly. “Master Qyburn remind me to have a word with my brother about the company he keeps.”

And the spies in his household with connections to King's Landing, the Lord Commander of the King's Guard thought.

If it was Catelyn Stark working against the Lannister's interest after Tyrion had magnanimously spared her family’s life, Jamie was going to fuck Sansa in front of her mother then push the wretched fish bitch out a tower window.


	2. Chapter 2

Since their arrival was expected, Sir Jaime thought it would be prudent to make a memorably majestic first impression on his brother’s new subjects, the people of the Rivers and Hills. It would not serve the best interest of the Lannisters to arrive at Tyrion’s court covered in a thick layer of trail dust and looking travel worn.

Jaime directed the fifty mounted knights, two servants, Lady Brienne, Prince Tommen and Master Qyburn to quickly wash with the last of their canteen water, change into fresh clothes, brush down the horses and polish their armor as best they could. The knights grumbled irritably, but obeyed as they were trained.

The two servants sent along to do the cooking, mind the horses, and attend Prince Tommen helped brush the horses, polish armor, and everywhere as needed in silent obedience.

Lady Brienne went off into the forest out of sight to clean herself up away from the eyes of the men. Master Qyburn who never seemed to get dirty, tired or out of sorts no matter what they encountered on the road took the opportunity to privately question the Kettleblack knight who had spoken to Ser Tully.

After seeing to the men, Jaime went in search of his nephew. Jaime found Tommen still astride his horse, refusing to dismount. Prince Tommen crossed his arms, dug in his heels and refused to cooperate with his servant. He was sore, he was tired, he was hungry and he wanted to go to Castle Riverrun right now!

“But why must we wash in the woods Uncle Jaime?” Prince Tommen whined petulantly as he was dragged out of the saddle and out of hearing range of the knights and servants by Ser Jamie. “We shouldn’t stop here. It’s getting dark. The scout said they have hot baths and food waiting for us at the castle if we hurry -”

Jaime looked around warily to make sure that he and his secret son were hidden in the brush from prying eyes and ears. The Lord Commander of the King’s guard grasped the young prince by both his upper arms and shook the boy like a dog who had snatched meat from the master’s table.

“Stop mewling like a nursling with milk on your chin! Thousands of loyal Lannister bannermen were crippled or killed to uphold our family’s honor. They paid for your right to be Prince Royal of Westeros with their flesh and blood! Your childish whining and craven cowardice makes a mockery of their brave sacrifices for us!”

“I never wanted to be a prince! I never wanted people to die for me! I didn’t want you or Uncle Tyrion to get hurt fighting the war or, or mother to cry all the time!” Tommen cried out. “I didn’t want Uncle Renly to die - or Uncle Stannis to hate us all! I’d give it all away - be a Maester with a chain, or a Septon if I could choose!”

Jamie pushed Tommen away in disgust. The young blonde boy stumbled back a few steps before tripping over his feet and falling on his bottom. Prince Tommen sat hunched over his knees on the forest floor padded with rotting leaves. He cried openly, covering his reddened face with both hands.

“I hate being a prince! I hate it, I hate it - and everyone hates me!” Tommen wailed.

Jamie had to eternally forsake his honor and kill King Aerys to sit on the Iron Throne just once, for a few short precious hours. Tommen was born lucky. Born into the royal line of succession. Tommen was one brother away from the crown and glory of Westeros and weep piteously about his good fortune.

Jamie stood over Prince Tommen, arms loose at his side, clenching and unclenching his fists. Jamie watched Tommen blubber temporarily at a loss. He scrubbed his face with his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair, but resisted the urge to pull out clumps of his thick golden mane.

On the eve of her wedding to Robert Baratheon, his twin sister Cersei had soaked the lap of Jamie’s pants with tears, bemoaning her fate, even though she had ceaselessly harassed their father to arrange the match between herself and the new king of Westeros so she could be crowned the queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Tommen looked so much like his mother at that moment, it almost hurt to look at the boy.

The gods mock me through my children, Jamie thought sourly.

Joffery is as mad as Aerys ever was. Tommen is a tremulous milksop and after being tutored by the mannish whores of the Dornish court Myrcella can probably piss standing up while taking a cock up her arse.

I should dig that fat Baratheon son of a bitch up and eye fuck his skull for what his neglect has done to my children!

Although he had never had an opportunity to spend a lot of time alone with any of his children because of his duties as a King’s Guard and Cersei’s paranoia, Jamie assumed Tommen’s temperament was similar to Cersei’s. Jaime decided to treat the prince the same way he treated his mother when she was overwrought.

Jamie took a deep calming breath and another, and another until he was in control of his temper. Cersei never reacted well when confronted with Jaime’s rare burst of anger. She did respond favorably to coaxing and coddling.

Jamie crouched down and put a comforting hand on one of Tommen’s shoulders.

“None of us gets to choose our lot in life. The Seven Faced God plan out our fates then places each man and women in the family that will best train us to their purpose for our life,” Jamie said in a soft understanding voice. He squeezing Tommen’s shoulder gently and the boy looked up at him.

“I was born to the Warden of the West, I had no choice but to be a knight as my father intended. You were born to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms - you have no choice but to be a prince. You do have a choice about what kind of prince you’ll be.”

Tommen’s tears had tapered off to sniffling. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked up at Jamie with bloodshot eyes “I, I can choose what kind of prince I am? What does that mean?”

“You can be a brave prince - make the family proud and inspire our subjects to be obedient thus fulfilling the gods will for your life. Or you can be a cowardly prince who discredits his brother’s right to sit upon the Iron Throne and gives the malcontents an excuse to make war and murder our loyal people. The choice is yours.”

Tommen worried his bottom lip thinking, then asked. “What should I do Uncle Jaime? I’m, I’m not brave - I’m scared all the time! I was scared when the riot broke out when Myrcella went away. I was scared when Uncle Stannis brought his armies to kill us! I was scared -”

“All men get scare!” Jaime interrupted exasperated. “Bravery is not the absence of fear, bravery is having the courage to fulfill your duties to the best of your abilites in spite of your fears. I am afraid every time I ride into battle -”

“You are? But you’re the best knight in the whole kingdom! What are you afraid of?”

“Like every man, I’m afraid I’ll die in agony or be terribly hurt,” Jaime replied honestly.

“But you were terribly hurt,” Tommen said in a small voice. His eyes flicked to the stump of Jaime’s lost sword hand and back to Jaime’s face.

“Losing this,” Jaime held up his stump in front of Tommen’s face. “Was terrible, but losing one of my loved ones would be infinitely worse. I wish I still had my hand, but I do not regret losing it while fighting Robb Stark because his mother Catelyn, kidnapped Tyrion and tried to murder him.”

“But Uncle Tyrion was too clever for her and stupid sweet Robin!” Tommen said grinning. “He escaped from the Eyrie and talked the Hill Tribe savages into taking him to grandfather’s war camp and fighting for Lannister at the battle of Whispering Wood and -.”

“Who told you all that?”

“Uncle Tyrion. He used to tell me stories and teach me stuff every evening after Myrcella left for Dorne,” Tommen looked down at his lap, his golden hair fell forward hiding his face. “Mother said I shouldn’t talk to him so much, but I was alone all the time. Uncle Tyrion said it was okay to keep him company while he worked.”

“What else did you do with your Uncle Tyrion?” Jaime asked curiously.

“Play cyvasse. Uncle Tyrion said it is good training for the mind,” Tommen looked up suddenly with a bright smile. “Before we left I played against grandfather. I used the Greenblood bluff and I beat him in ten moves! Mother was so proud of me! Joffrey got all red in the face. He was soo jealous! He never wins against me!”

“You beat - how did you do it? Father has played cyvasse longer than you’ve been alive!”

“Grandfather isn’t nearly as good as as Uncle Tyrion at cyvasse. It was easy peasey - but don’t tell him I said that,” Tommen added hurriedly.

“We wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings,” Jaime agreed with a wink and Tommen giggled. “Before long you’ll be leading the Lannister bannermen into battle instead of me and your grandfather.”

“But I’m not any good on the tilt yard -”

“Neither is you Uncle Tyrion. Did that stop him from taking the Riverlands?” Jamie pointed out encouragingly.

“Mother said Uncle Tyrion got lucky and his luck’s going to run out soon enough.”

What does your mother know about warfare? Jamie wanted ask. She’s never taken a single castle by force. Father was losing the war- yet they both begrudge Tyrion his near bloodless conquest? Why can’t they rejoice that the war is over? Admit they’re proud of Tyrion? Gods! Can’t we all just get along!

“Tommen you don’t have to beat every man in the practice yard to bring honor to the family. Your grandfather knows how to joust but he’s never competed in a single tournament in his life. Yet he’s won many battles and served as the King’s Hand under two different rulers.”

“If I don’t need to joust to be a brave prince, why do I have to spend hours in the practice yard everyday letting Joffrey knock me off my pony until I’m black and blue all over?”

“A nobleman's son has to know a lot of things he may never use. Nobody has ever asked, but I can name all the Lords of Casterly Rock all the way back to Lann I. I have no time to indulge in hobbies, but I do know how to train a falcon to hunt and return with its catch -”

“Mother likes to fly her falcons from the castle walls. She says you trained them for her. They catch fish in the ocean, rabbits in the vegetable patch and squirrels in the godswood -”

“Tommen! My point is, since nobody can accurately predict the future, you are expected to learn and master many different skills so that you are prepared to be a good lord over your own household, help your brother rule wisely, and be a credit to our family name no matter what situation you encounter. Understand?”

“Yes Uncle Jaime,” Tommen mumbled.

“Today being a good, brave prince means being clean and courageous in front of the people of the Riverlands. Remember not all of our enemies died in the war. Some are hiding in plain sight. Behind friendly smiles. Just waiting for our family to show weakness so they can strike us down.”

Jamie did not want to bluntly say: don’t trust the Starks! They’re a bunch of hypocritical self righteous jealous curs! He remembered being a youth. He did and thought the opposite of what his wise father, aunts and uncles advised simply because he was young, and contrary.

Tommen and his siblings were conceived and born as a result of reckless youthful defiance. He did not want to drive Tommen to befriend the enemy out of youthful spitefulness. Jamie hoped if he hinted hard enough Tommen would figure it out what he meant without realizing Jamie was putting thoughts into his head.

“If there are so many of our enemies hiding in the Riverlands, why doesn’t Uncle Tyrion just kill them all before they try to hurt us? Isn’t it stupid and dangerous to let them live? When he was the Hand of the King emptied the the dungeons twice and sent everyone to the Wall of the North. Why hasn’t he done that here?”

“In war all your enemies gather on the field of battle where you can see them and they can see you. Knowing who to kill and who not to kill is easy. In peacetime, all your friends, loyal subjects, enemies, and the people who look out only for themselves and nobody else all mix together.”

“How do you tell them apart?”

“Lords and ladies use the art of politics to separate their enemies from their allies and to use the scheming opportunist before they can be used by the opportunist. Politics is like cyvasse: some pieces are sacrificed so others can advance. There are moves and countermoves. Nothing is straightforward or easy.”

Which is why I chose to wear armour and swing a sword instead of wearing cloth of gold and welding a quill. Let father, Cersei and Tyrion have their machinations. I’ve no head for cyvasse or politics, Jamie thought.

“Uncle Tyrion taught me to always use a bold prophylaxis attack to stop threats on the board before they even happen. Looking strong, and brave when we ride into town makes our enemies think our family is strong and brave so they won’t mess with us?”

“EXACTLY! While we are in the Riverlands we are going to be on the lookout for Tyrion’s sneaky enemies and show them our family has no weaknesses or internal divisions for them to use against us. Trust no one except me, Tyrion and aunt Genna. Everyone else is a suspect.” Especially the Starks!

“What do you want me to do?”

“Sit tall in the saddle as I do. Chin up. Keep your eyes on the lead knight’s head. One hand on your reins, the other on your sword’s hilt. Fling the coppers like you’re sowing seed in a field - left and right. Don’t worry about where it goes or who catches it. Just throw it.”

“How much should I throw?”

“One hand full every twenty seconds. Keep count in your head. Don’t move your lips. Understand?”

“Yes Uncle Jamie. I can do this. I’ll make the family proud of me.”

“You’re going to do wonderfully. Come on now, let’s get you clean and ready to ride forth.”

Once the company was presentable Jaime set the three Kettleblack brothers in front of of the double column. Prince Tommen took the position behind the Kettleblacks, then Jamie and Lady Brienne behind the prince, followed by Master Qyburn, the servants and the rest of the knights.

The largest brother rode out in the lead blowing a ram’s horn bugle.The other two Kettleblacks carried the Baratheon arms on banners fluttering from tall poles and announced in their loud rough bellow: Hail Prince Tommen Baratheon, Son of King Robert the Conqueror, Heir of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros!

As they rode down the hill and across the river valley to the edge of the village - the farmers in the fields on either side of the path came running from their work to line the road and watch them pass by.

In the blur of people Jamie saw the blonde heads of Westerners, the dark heads of Northerners, and the bright ginger locks of Rivermen men, women, and children all standing together in the string of smallfolk.

Prince Tommen flung the small folk alms in glittering showers of copper pennies. Their children scrambled in the dirt like chickens for feed but the adults did not cheer or clap for Tommen. The barefoot farm children chattered amongst themselves excitedly and waved at the riders.

Their parents did not even put their heads together to mutter. They wiped sweat from their brows, shaded their eyes from the sun and watched the horses thunder by in somber silence. The dirt road gave way to wide trench where a gang of men were laying out sand, gravel and paving bricks making a solid road.

 

The riders went off into the field circling round the work crew and their wagons of supplies. Two hundred yards outside the town the riders passed through the open gates of a new stone wall twenty feet high and six feet thick. On the other side of the wall they rode through a stockyard of animal pens and into the town proper.

The settlement outside Castle Riverrun looked larger from its wide main road than it had from the hill overlooking the valley. The mudbrick plaster covered houses and shops with their wrap around railed porches looked dingy with road dust not sparkling white up close. Their thatch roofs more mustard colored than golden.

They were all elevated at least fifteen feet above the ground on pillars of brick reinforced with timber cross pieces in deference to the seasonal flooding. The rails of their porches and balconies were decorated with ropes of wildflower garland.

Soldiers with shiny sharp halberds held at the ready dressed in black hooded leather long vests stitched with the Stark-Lannister arms on the front stood at attention every fifteen feet along the road.

At the sound of the Kettleblack trumpeting people abandoned their work, came out onto their balconies and stood along the road to watch them go by. Again Tommen threw out coins, again the children hurried to gather the largess, again the adults were subdued. The atmosphere tense.

Not even the whores lounging on the stairs leading up their their brothel with their breast almost hanging out of their tight low cut tops waved to them. The peddlers in their stalls, the goat girls with their herds of animals going to the butcher, every man and women stared at the party from King’s Landing as they came and went.

A banner with a black stage and yellow lion hung from the balcony of the long squat town Sept. The hanged rotting corpses of all of the Mountain Clegane’s men - still dressed in Lannister red - swung on the right side of the banner. Twenty men whose jerkins bore a flayed man on an X swung by the neck on the left of the banner.

In the shade of the holy sanctuary twenty holy brothers, their barefeet black with dirt, their woolen robes rough homespun belted with cord were gathered in a semi circle learning to fight with the quarterstaff. Jaime watched them move through a drill with military precision and wondered who the holy men planned to fight.

A score of heavily pregnant Septas in grey and Silent Sisters in black were waddling like overfed geese in the garden next to their holy sanctuary hauling buckets of water for their budding crops, and hoeing up the weeds.  
They sang a beautiful hymn about the mother’s mercy as they worked, but paid Tommen’s party no attention.

Jamie had heard in Robb Stark’s camp that the Mountain Clegane and his men raped every female they came across: holy nuns, little girls, expectant mothers, elders with flat breast and grey hair - but he had assumed that it was a lie spread to discredit his father’s honor. Seeing the evidence with his own eyes was disquieting.

The heat from the setting sun reflecting off the plaster covered houses and up from the cobblestone paved main road leading through village to the drawbridge of Castle Riverrun was choking after the dim warmth of the forest.

The strangely quiet crowds made the sweat trickling down Jaime’s back feel like the prelude to a crossbow bolt. He was glad with the hooves of their horses rang hollow on the wood of the drawbridge as they left the city, cantering across the wide brown blue river and into the castle bailey.

As soon as they passed beneath Riverrun’s raised iron portcullis into the hallway beneath the gatehouse the castle denizens standing four deep along either side of the wall erupted into loud cheering and applause. The sound echoed thunderously in the stone channel like a waterfall.

The women and children stood in front of the men. They showered the riders as they passed with handfuls of wildflowers from the gathered up lap of their aprons and smocks. The women and children chanted,” The fury! The Fury! The Fury is coming!” at the top of their high voices.

“Long live Prince Tommen Baratheon! Long Live the Heir of Westeros!” The men shouted through their cupped hands. While Prince Tommen threw them pennies in return.

The cheering was so perfectly synchronized and enthusiastically loud after the sullen silence outside the castle walls it embarrassed Jamie Lannister. Things were even worse than he had expected. There was no doubt in Jamie’s mind the Tully-Starks were at the root of the moral problem in the Riverlands.

Inside the curtain walls of Castle Riverrun the wide open gravel covered spaces of the bailey, outbuildings, gardens and three spiral tower keeps were constructed upon the leveled off tops of a half dozen separate naturally occurring islands of granite in the middle of the river connected by stone bridges.

Lady Sansa Stark-Lannister flanked by Lady Catelyn Stark on her right and Lady Genna on her left - with dozens of ladies in waiting behind them - stood at the foot of the bridge that connected the gatehouse courtyard that held stables, animal pens and guard’s barracks with the next island that held a rose garden.

The King’s Landing party circled the courtyard once before forming up in ranks with Jaime and Brienne flanking Prince Tommen in front and all their men forming neat rows behind them.

The smallfolk and castle denizens came out of the gatehouse tunnel blocking their retreat, and fanning out around them still cheering their arrival. Tommen turned in his saddle left and right so he could wave to them and they cheered louder for him.

Jaime nervously looked up and around at the high walls of Riverrrun. At least a hundred men dressed hooded black leather long vests marked with the Stark Lannister sigil over ringmail stood with their cross weapons pointed down, but feet squared up, ready to fire raise and fire.

Sir Jamie wondered if the bowmen were meant to warn the visitors from King’s Landing to behave themselves or warn the castle denizens with ideas about seeking vengeance against the houses Lannister or Baratheon that retribution would be swift and deadly.

Sir Jamie desperately needed to speak with his brother Tyrion. His brother was nowhere to be seen.

Sir Jamie and Lady Brienne quickly dismounted. Sir Jamie hurried to hold Prince Tommen’s horse’s head while the prince got down. Lady Sansa followed closely by her mother and aunt-in law approached the King’s Landing Party.

“Prince Tommen Baratheon, on behalf of my husband, Lord Tyrion Lannister, all our household and lands I bid you welcome to Castle Riverrun and the united land of Rivers North.”

Lady Sansa, Lady Catelyn, Lady Genna, the women behind them curtsied deeply. The small folk behind and around the King’s Landing party fell silent and dropped to one knee.

Sir Jamie Lannister noticed the men with crossbows did not move.

Prince Tommen blushed as he hurried forward, took both of Lady Sansa’s hands and tugged her back up to her feet.

“You don’t have to bow to me Sansa,” he whispered to the tall red-haired girl. “You’re my aunt now -”

Ser Jamie was alarmed to see how tall Lady Sansa had grown in the months since she had left King’s Landing. According to Cersei the Stark girl was the same age as Prince Joffrey, but Lady Sansa was a full head taller. The top of Prince Tommen’s head did not reach the Stark girl’s shoulder. She had sprouted up to Ser Jamie’s height. 

“I know, nephew,” the girl replied in a low voice, smiling. “But I want everyone to know you are both welcome and respected here in the Riverlands, so I lead by example.”

Everyone else got to their feet after Sansa did. “Do you remember what you’re supposed to say next Prince Tommen?” Sansa asked in a whisper.

Ser Jamie could find no fault in Sansa’s modest mode of dress. Her hair, head and shoulders were completely covered by a sheer veil like a novice Septa. She wore a gown of champagne gold silk in the shoulder baring full sleeve style Cersei favored. It complemented Prince Tommen’s crimson brocade split sleeve jacket beautifully.

Prince Tommen cleared his throat and said in a loud boyishly high voice: “On behalf of my brother, King Joffrey Baratheon and his wife Queen Margaery, I bring you the warm felicitations of all our family at King’s Landing.”

Still holding Lady Sansa’s hands Prince Tommen drew her forward and kissed both her cheeks.

Smiling Prince Baratheon offered Lady Stark-Lannister his arm and she placed her hand upon his sleeve. The couple turned to face to courtyard.

Lady Sansa announced in her melodic ringing tones,” We are honored to host our beloved royal nephew, Prince Tommen Baratheon.”

The crowd shouted their response in perfect unison: “All hail Prince Tommen Baratheon, Prince of Westeros!”

“Every man, woman and child must submit to the Holy Seven with a humble heart. It is the will of the Holy Seven that our family, united in affection and obedience under the sovereign authority of the Iron Throne, bless the all the lands in our dominion with ever lasting peace and prosperity. We all must act in obedience to the gods will.”

“May the will of the Holy Seven be heard and done!” the crowds intoned solemnly.

Jamie’s scalp prickled and the hair on his arms stood up.

Militant priests preparing for war.

A wife running toward religious fanaticism with open arms.

Surly smallfolk grinding resentment in their back teeth like cows chewing cud.

Plotting Tully-Starks lurking about.

No wonder his Aunt Genna had sent for reinforcements. Tyrion was surrounded on all sides by traps and snares ready to catch him out. Jamie had come just in time.

Ser Jamie caught his Aunt Genna’s eye. The Lord Commander of the King’s Guard glanced at Lady Sansa Stark Lannister holding forth like a Septa leading the Vesper hour prayers then back at his aunt and raised his eyebrows slightly. _Is she serious with this holy holy bullshit?_

Lady Genna Frey inclined her head slowly forward. _Yes._

Lady Genna looked up and rolled her eyes at Jamie. _She’s insufferable._

Jamie bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning at is aunt Genna. Lady Catelyn, who stood beside Lady Genna frowned at Jamie’s levity, then glanced at Lady Genna who was looking attentively at the back of Lady Sansa’s head as if hanging on the Stark girl’s every word. Lady Catelyn’s frown deepened.

“Master of Horses, Master of Arms would you please take charge of the knights, the horses and servants?” Lady Sansa requested with an elegant gesture of her hand.

Two men in stepped forward out of the crowd and bowed smartly to Lady Stark-Lannister and Prince Baratheon.

“Heard and done, my lady,” they said in unison before rounding up all the knights and horses with the help of a flock of stable boys.

“Shall we proceed to the great hall and dinner Prince Tommen?” Sansa asked politely inclining her head toward Tommen in question. "I've had the cooks make all your favorites."

“Lead on Lady Sansa.”

The people who had cheered for them went back to their business, disappearing into doorways in the curtain walls of the Castle Riverrun like lines of ants returning into their mound. Jamie signaled his men to go where they were sent with a gesture of his hand. He would convene with them latter to find out what they’d learned.

The women who attended lady Stark Lannister parted as Tomman and Sansa turned and proceeded across the stone bridge from the gatehouse bailey to the gardens. Genna and Catelyn fell in step behind Sansa and Tommen, followed by Brienne and Jamie, the flock of ladies in waiting, and Master Qyburn.

The island contained the fragrant rose garden, a herb garden, an orchard, a field of vegetables, a fenced in meadow with grazing cows and sheep, two greenhouses, and a courtyard with a fountain with a statue of leaping fish surrounded by blue roses.

A draw bridge connected the garden to the island with three spiral towers. Two bridges that slanted down connected the garden to two platforms built into the walls of Riverrun near the water line. The platforms were built beside the water gates of the castle and had bobbing long boats tied to their pier.

They crossed the final bridge to the Isle of Towers. The paved courtyard lead up the wide front steps skirting the unicorn horn shaped keep. A fan fare of trumpets blasted out, and a herald announce their arrival as they walked through the antechamber over the Tully sigil set into the floor into the great hall of Riverrun.

A fan fare of trumpets blasted out across the hall to announce their arrival in the great hall of Riverrun Castle.  
The throne room of the Red Keep was inspired by Riverrun’s great hall. It was three stories high, with stained glass windows tall as the Mountain, and ringed with two horseshoe levels of balconies.

The smooth walls and floor of great hall of Riverrun Castle were enameled a pearly white like the inside of a clam’s shell that reflected the colors of the stain glass windows like the facets of a diamond. Long tables laid out the length of the room and all the living Lords of the Riverlands stood in front of the tables.

The massive silk banners of House Tully, Stark, and Lannister hung behind the dias of the high table. A smaller banner of Royal House Baratheon hung the front of the high table.  Mistress Arya Stark, the men of house Stark-Tully and the newest lady Stark stood beside their chairs at the high table waiting.

Red hair, blue eyes and suspicious frowns - all the Stark-Tully males bore a similar countenance. Robb Stark had grown tall enough to rest his chin on the top of Jamie’s head, which made the Lord Commander of the King’s Guard wonder if the story of Brandon the Builder so tall he built the wall was more than a mere legend.

Lady Sansa guided Prince Tommen up to the high table and to the large white alabaster carved sea shell shaped chairs of the Lord and Lady of the Trident. Lady Genna took the seat to Tommen’s right, with Ser Jaime next to her, Lady Brienne next to him, then Lady Genna’s ladies in waiting and Master Qyburn at the end of the table.

Lady Sansa stood beside the left hand chair, with Ser Brynden to her left followed by Ser Edmure, Lady Catelyn, Lord Robb, his wife Lady Talisa, and Mistress Arya. Lady Sansa’s two ladies in waiting took up next two seats. Some Riverlords Ser Jamie did not know and their wives finished off the end of the table.

Lady Stark-Lannister and Prince Tommen repeated their congenial exchange from outside. The assembled Lords of the Riverlands responded with polite, tepid applause. The guests glanced shifty side looks at their neighbors to gauge each other’s reaction to Lady Sansa’s call for unity in the name of the gods.

Then she began to pray. Lady Stark-Lannister kept praying for so long, the servant’s stopped waiting for her to finish. They silently started laying platters of hot food out on the tables. Ser Jamie raised his head and glanced around at all the Riverlords and ladies standing with their heads bowed and palms up lifted.

Lady Sansa continued to pray relentlessly over the sound of growling stomachs and restlessly shifting feet.

“Does she do anything besides give thanks to the gods?” the Lord Commander of the King's Guard asked his aunt in a quiet whisper. “I know there are seven of them, but does she have to speak to each of them individually before we can get on with dinner? I’m starving!”

“Be thankful you came in time for dinner tonight. Tomorrow is the Stranger’s Day. Lady Sansa insists everyone in the castle, except that nursing cow Talisa and the sick, observe an all day fast like the pious lords of old on the seventh day. Sun up till sun down. Every week. She means to get us to heaven though starvation and hard work.”

“Surely you jest aunt Genna?”

“I wish to gods I did. I have my ladies hide fruit, bread and cheese in their sewing baskets at lunch time the day before. I’ve lost two stone since I’ve come to Tyrion’s court. Look at this! My rings are loose on my fingers.”

Lady Sansa finally finished her conversation with the gods. Everyone in the great hall sat down to eat with a heartfelt AMEN!

Lady Genna held up her hand so Jamie could see her rings. “This one flew off my hand into the gravel of the stable yard when I slapped Lyonel for his insolence the morning he rode off with Tyrion. Took my handmaids hours to find it.”

Jamie took his aunt’s hand, and pulled it a little closer to his face. He did not generally pay attention to the jewelry the women of his family wore, but the green stone surrounded by rubies set in yellow gold sparkled like wildfire caught in ice. “Is that an emerald?” Jamie asked wondering if his aunt had taken a new lover. Again.

“This, ignorant boy, is a green diamond,” Lady Genna said smugly. “It is the rarest of all the diamond colors.”

“Where did you get it?”

“My fiance had it made for me. He says it brings out the fire in my eyes.” Lady Genna looked down at the ring adorning her finger fondly. “And matches the poison that drips from my lush lip, like the juices of a ripe peach in springtime. Isn't he romantic?”

“Aunt Genna, you can’t get married yet! Grass isn't even growing on Uncle Emmon’s grave -”

“I’m a grown women with grandsons. I do not need permission from you, Tywin or Kevin to live my life as I see fit!”

“I’m sorry Aunt Genna. I didn’t mean to offend you,”Jamie backpedaled hastily. His aunt Genna was very close to Tyrion. In his campaign to reunite the family, Ser Jamie could not afford to alienate Tyrion's surrogate mother. “Tyrion kills your husband. Less than a year later you’re engaged. Surely you can see it looks like murder.”

“I’ll not let you or anyone else fault Tyrion for killing Emmon Frey for me. Tyrion did what Tywin should've done decades ago. That perverse, weak chinned weasel was poor as a begging brother without a begging bowl, and a bad father to my children. If Tyrion hadn’t provided this match and dowry for me I’d be a destitute widow.”

“Father wouldn’t ever let that happen! you know-”

“Don’t you dare presume to tell me what your father would or would not let happen if it suited his plans. I think I know Tywin Lannister a hell of a lot better than you do boy. The longer I live, the more thankful I become Joanna entrusted Tyrion to my care with her dying breath. To think, I almost gave him over to Dorna Swift. Pffft.”

“Just who has my wonderful brother offered your hand in marriage too?”

“To the father of most of my children, of course. With Emmon Frey out of the way, there’s no reason we shouldn’t finally live as man and wife.”

Lady Genna leaned forward, to see past the bodies of all the people at the table. Ser Brynden Tully gazed at her with naked smoldering lust. She blew him a kiss. Ser Tully caught the invisible affection in his fist, and tucked it in an imaginary pocket over his heart.

Mistress Arya Stark witnessed the scene and made a gagging noise. Ser Jamie Lannister heartily agreed with her.


	3. Chapter 3

Catelyn Stark pretended she could not see her Uncle Brynden flirting outrageously with Genna Frey across the table like a squire who had just discovered sex. It was no secret in the Riverlands that the Tully Blackfish refused his brother Holster’s attempts to marry him off because he was in love with the Hellcat of Lannister. 

Her father sent her uncle to serve Lysa at the Vale to quiet the rumors Brynden Tully had fathered all of Genna Frey’s children except for Cleos. Having seen the lanky Lyonel Frey and his little brother Red Walder standing next her son Robb Stark on several occasions, Lady Catelyn could not deny the family resemblance. 

The Frey boys looked more like Robb Stark than his sister Sansa did. Save for the golden tint to their red hair, and their bright cat green eyes - Lyonel and R.W. easily have been mistaken for two of Catelyn children. Interestingly, when the Freys heard their Uncle Jamie was coming to visit, they volunteered to ride with Tyrion.

Having achieved his lifelong matrimonial ambitions, Lady Catelyn did not expect her Uncle Brynden to be interested helping her protect Robb Stark’s right to be Lord of Winterfell. Especially since his secret son Tion Frey was murdered by the Karstarks because she released Jamie Lannister in exchange for her daughters.

Lady Catelyn turned her attention to her brother Edmure Tully instead. He still hated the Lannisters, and Tyrion in particularly - for usurping his Lordship of the Riverlands. The seven musicians playing in on the steps of the dias covered muffled the sound of her quiet conversation with her dinner partners. 

“First the Frey boys, then Lady Genna and her flock of women, now Ser Jamie, Prince Tommen, a host of knights, servants and the gods know who else! Are we to be invaded and colonized by the whole Lannister family?” Catelyn complained quietly to her brother Edmure on her right and her son Robb on her left.

“Not counting Lyonel and R.W. we Starks and Tullys out number the Lannisters two to one mother,” Robb replied quietly. “This castle and its two villages are fortified with five hundred battle tested men at arms, who have sworn their swords to Sansa’s service. Jamie Lannister and pretty white knights are no threat to us.” 

“I’m a fish by blood and a wolf by marriage. I don’t feel comfortable in a house full of cats.”

“They are Tyrion’s family,” Lady Talisa replied reasonably. “Surely you aren’t surprised they’ve come to visit him Lady Catelyn?”

Lady Catelyn pursed her lips in irritation, trying to think of an appropriate response that would not anger her son. Her brother Edmure saved Catelyn the trouble. 

“Are you hopelessly in naive or willfully ignorant Talissa?” Edmure asked disdainfully. 

“Uncle Edmure,” Robb warned in a low dangerous voice. “Take care how you speak to my wife or we shall have to forcefully discuss your manners sir.”

“I am a servant in my own house because you drove away half your army with your high-minded foolishness and married that foreigner instead of the honoring your betrothal contract. My son will be born in prison and I sit at the table of my enemy everyday - anytime you’d like to cross swords with me boy, I’m more than ready.”

“Robb, Edmure please,” Lady Catelyn implored laying at hand on both men’s arms and squeezing gently. “Let the past, be past. We have survived this war with our lives and wits intact. The future is not set in stone. What has been done, can easily be undone - if we work together toward our common goal.”

“Why do you want to restore Edmure to the Lordship of Riverrun and Robb to the rule of Winterfell?” Talisa asked. “It seems to me they are both better off under the current arrangement.”

“How can you say that?” Catelyn demanded. “Winterfell is Robb’s birthright - don’t you want your husband to sit on the throne of his father, and his father’s father?”

“Not at the cost of his life,” Talisa replied. “I married Robb for himself, not his land and titles. If it be the will of the Lord of Light I want him to see our grandchildren born. It seems to me, the Lannisters are proud, jealous Lords. They attack and tear down anyone who looks to be their equal or their superior.”

“Jon Arryn, father, Renly and Stannis Baratheon - it’s like the Lannisters are working down a checklist of war-leaders who can quickly raise an army to oppose their rule,” Robb agreed with his wife. 

Lady Catelyn regarded Talisa with newfound respect. “Better Jon Snow than Robb Stark?”

“I predict Jon Snow will live just long enough for Sansa to bare a few healthy sons and the North to become accustomed to Tyrion’s rule,” Talisa said. 

“If Jon is lucky,” Robb added. “He’ll be sent back to the Wall when the Lannisters are done with him, and if he’s unlucky -” 

“He’ll lose his head like Ned,” Catelyn concluded with satisfaction. 

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Edmure asked.

“Be fruitful and multiply,” Robb replied. “Your children and my children will marry Sansa’s children. Thus tying the North and the Riverlands permanently together into one land under the rule of one united family.”

“Tyrion is at least twice Sansa’s age. Even if she births a son this year, it is unlikely Tyrion will live to see the boy become a man. In which case his loyal uncles will step in as governors of the North-Rivers lands,” Catelyn said happily. “You don’t have to be a Lord to have the power of a Lord.” 

“What about Uncle Brynden?” Edmure asked. “Tyrion and Sansa intend to appoint him their governor when they go North.”

“We all love Brynden, but he is an old man. He’ll be ashes on the river when our sons are squires Edmure,” Robb assured his uncle. “There is no need for us to be hasty. Time and the Lannister’s evil nature will do half the work for us. Now is the time for us to work ourselves into Tyrion’s good graces, earn his trust and loyalty.”

“We need to have a plan in place incase Tyrion dies to soon,” Edmure said fretfully. “It will take years for the Riverlands to recover from this last war, reunite the North after the Karstark defection - and we know not to count on Lysa and the Vale for help.”

“Would it help if you married Arya to sweet Robin?” Talisa asked.

Robb snorted. “Arya would stab sweet Robin in his eye first chance she got so she could rule the Vale of Arryn by herself. She's a meanace with her direwolf. Gods help us all if she got her hands on a dragon's egg and an army. Arya would give the Targaryens a run for their money.”

“Then the best solution is for Sansa to start breeding,” Talisa concluded. “If she isn’t pregnant now, she needs to get pregnant immediately. Have you spoken to Sansa about getting her nursery in order Lady Catelyn?”

“I’ve inquired in vague terms. Sansa assures me Tyrion a considerate, patient husband,” Lady Catelyn replied reluctantly. She hated to think of the deformed little monster mounting her eldest daughter, but if the family’s survival depended on Sansa, she would encourage the girl to do her wifely duty. “I’ll speak to her again.” 

“Do that,” Robb ordered. “Make it clear to her, that she needs to have as many children as she can before the Lannisters turn on Tyrion, as they surely will before to long, to secure her place as the Wardness of the North Rivers. Meanwhile Edmure and I will work together to win the respect and loyalty of the North-Rivers Lords.”


	4. Chapter 4

Prince Doran Martell, ruler of Dorne, had urged his younger brother to cultivate alliances in King Joffrey's court, and above all not to provoke the Lannisters with offensive behavior. Although the Martell’s had the princess Myrcella, Doran was still afraid of what the Lannisters might do to Dorne.

Prince Oberyn saw no reason to be intimidated by the West’s army or the Lions of Lannister. The kingdom of Dorne withstood the wrath of the Targaryens long after the other six kingdoms bent their knee in abject defeat and humiliation. Prideful lions were nothing compared to raging dragons.

Prince Oberyn Martell was called to wait upon the King’s Hand and the Law’s Master in the Court of Justice the day he arrived in King’s Landing. His sister Queen Elia had remarked in her last letter home that having dignitaries wait upon the Queen in the Court of Justice was a petty honor.

As a guest justicar, the visiting luminary was afforded the opportunity to closely observe the inner workings of the government of Westeros. More importantly it was easier for the visiting official to speak frankly to the queen, and the king’s chief ministers in the semi-formal setting, than in the throne room. 

Prince Oberyn had no interest in the Lannister’s placating gesture. He chose to ignore the summons to the Court of Justice for the entire three weeks of festivities preceding King Joffrey's wedding to Margaery Tyrell. He had more interesting things to do than attend the crown sponsored revelry.

Prince Oberyn spent most of his visit to the capital in whorehouses and taverns avoiding the official activities celebrating the royal wedding. A number of influential people dissatisfied or disenfranchised by the Lannister-Baratheon reign arranged to discreetly met him away from the spying eyes of court. 

Most interesting among his aquantices was a wealthy Essoi whoremistress, who would not admit to having spent enough time in the golden West to pick up a slight accent, named Shay-la Shay-la Saar. 

She was refreshingly unafraid of the Lannisters, and consented to sell ale from a glass barrel holding the Mountain Clegane’s head in Prince Oberyn's mischievous fundraisers for the septa rape victims of the Riverlands.

When that stunt did not bring down the wrath of Tywin Lannister even more people disenchanted with King Joffrey sought Prince Oberyn out. All in all, Prince Oberyn discovered King’s Landing was a shiny red apple riddled with worms and rot.

On his last day in King’s Landing, in deference to his brother’s wishes, and to satisfy his curiosity, Prince Oberyn made up his mind to answer the summons of the Hand of the King.

Prince Oberyn had slow satisfying sex and a leisurely breakfast with his paramour Ellaria, then dispatched her, his servants and luggage to his ship to await his arrival. Prince Oberyn made his way, at a leisurely pace, to the Tower of the Hand of the King in the Red Keep.

Prince Oberyn expected the Lannister’s to make him wait as punishment for ignoring their summons. He intended to indulge their foolishness until dinner. Then he would excuse himself to the privy and go straight to the docks. Prince Oberyn planned to sail to his home and family with the evening tide

It was midmorning when Prince Oberyn presented himself to the clerk at the desk at the bottom of the stairs. The clerk left a page in charge of his post and personally lead Prince Oberyn up to the room where the Hand of the King and Master of Laws held court past the many people waiting their turn.

In the course of a single day there could be as many as one hundred people sitting on the spiral stair that led up to the Hand of the King’s public chambers hoping for an audience the Master of the Royal Will Codified in Law and the Chief Minister of the King of the Seven Kingdom’s Royal Government.

No one appeared before King Joffrey in open court without first being screened by the Master of Laws, Ser Kevan Lannister, and the Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister. Some came to solicit royal patronage, some to petition for mercy or justice, some to sell secrets, and some to offer bribes. 

All who came before the elder Lions of the West in the Tower of the Hand were acutely conscious that the true power of the throne lay with the patriarchs of the Lannister family, not the boy king, who slouched petulantly upon the Targaryen throne of swords wearing the Baratheon crown of stag horns. 

The Hall of Justice was a smaller, plain copy of the Great Hall of the Iron Throne with bare stone walls, floors and two windows. Upon the dias was a carved wooden chair, resplendent with shining gold leaf, for Queen of Westeros; flanked by plainer seats for the Hand of the King and the Master of Laws.

In the Court of Justice, the Queen of Westeros was the Official Intercessor of Mercy on behalf of the people. During her nearly twenty year reign, Queen Cersei rarely appeared in the Court of Justice. She preferred to sit beside or even on the Iron Throne at the King’s Court in the Great Hall.

Lord Tywin sat upon the Queen’s Throne. Ser Kevan sat upon the Hand of the King’s chair. When the clerk lead Prince Oberyn into the Court of Justice. A bearded Braavosi Merchant in a faded blue silk shirt, knee patched leather pants and toe curled red boots stood before the the Lannisters.

The clerk signaled to the guards who tapped their shields with their swords making a resounding gong that silenced the merchant. The merchant and the Lannisters looked to the doors and the clerk announced,”Prince Oberyn of Dorne is come to wait upon your grace, Lord Lannister!”

“Let him enter and be seated,” Lord Tywin replied. “Continue Captain Moredo.”

With much bowing and quiet flattery the clerk lead Prince Oberyn past the guards, up onto the dias and to the empty Master of Law’s chair. Prince Oberyn settled comfortably with one arm over the back of the chair and one leg over the left arm of the chair.

Two Dornish women of middle years, dressed in the shapeless brown dresses of the lowest castle servants, their dark hair neatly braided, waited upon them. One woman stood beside Ser Kevan, fanning the three men with a large paper kite at the end of a long pole.

The other women knelt on the floor, head bowed with her hands upon her thighs not far from Prince Oberyn’s feet, between two small tables one set with refreshments and the other set with a cyvasse board. Both women had the grace and humbled dignity of noble women who had suffered for years. 

Lord Tywin sat upon the Queen’s Throne with more dignity than his grandson or late son in law. He flicked a hand at the women crouched on the floor. She rose gracefully to her feet, poured Prince Oberyn a goblet chilled of fine red wine, handed it to him and silently returned to her place. 

Oberyn accepted the glass from the servant without looking at her and let it dangle by the rim from his fingertips without drinking from it. He idly wondered if she was one of the many women who was presumed dead after the Lannister’s sacked King’s Landing, murdered his sister and her family. 

He wondered how many other high born Dornish who followed his sister to court lived in labored as servants to the Lannister-Baratheon dynasty. He wondered if his sister’s death was a mercy in comparison to the Dornish servant’s lives. Prince Oberyn resolved to speak with his brother about it.

“I am a member of the Guild of Merchants. His excellency Ferrego Antaryon Sealord of Braavos is a friend of the Prestayn family. He will be very displeased to hear how I was robbed and humiliated in one of your ports by infamous criminals your government has done nothing to apprehend in months!”

“You escaped with your life, your ship and most of your crew. That was exceedingly merciful by the standards of the Iron Islands.Usually captives unfit to man the oars are fed to the sharks. The bed slaves they stole from you must be remarkably talented to soften their usual murderous nature.”

Captain Moredo flushed red with anger, and clenched his fists at his side. 

“If I have not received compensation for my losses in accordance with the maritime treaty between Westeros and Braavos by the beginning of the Guild Summer Summit, the freight charged to Westeros merchants will be increased to reflect the dangers of conducting business in this tumultuous land.”

“Prince Oberyn, read this latest dispatch from my youngest son for Captain Moredo’s edification.”

Lord Tywin gestured again and the kneeling women swifty fetched the scroll from his hand and brought it to Prince Oberyn who unrolled the parchment and read aloud. 

To the Lords and Ladies who hold the Strongholds of the North  
To my father, Lord Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West and Hand of King Joffrey I

I Tyrion Lannister, Lord of the Riverlands by right of conquest and Consort of the North by right of marriage do here communicate the current situation and my intentions to fulfill the will of King Joffery I to the Lords and Ladies of the North and the Royal Court Ministers of Westeros.

I was ordered by royal writ issued by King Joffrey I signed by his Hand Lord Tywin, his Master of Laws Ser Kevan and witnessed by Queen Cersei to subdue, by what so ever means I find appropriate, the rebels who rose up in opposition to the Iron Throne. By the King’s command I am given authority to take as my personal dominion their wealth and property.

When Robb Stark rode south to retrieve his sisters, Theon Greyjoy was dispatched to the Iron Islands to broker an alliance between himself and Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands. I sent ravens to Lord Balon, when I acted a protim- Hand of the King informing him that Robb Stark was a named traitor acting in rebellion to the King Joffery.

Instead of accepting Robb Stark’s offer, Balon Greyjoy decided to take the opportunity to avenge the deaths of his sons and the defeat he suffered at the hands of Lord Eddard Stark and the Royal Baratheon brothers; even though he was informed by raven and messenger that by the King Joffrey’s writ the North and Rivers were my private property and under my protection. 

Lord Greyjoy sent his son and daughter to take Winterfell. He did not know I had commanded Jon Stark, Benjen Stark and loyal men from Bear Island to reinforce the heart of Winter. 

Lord Greyjoy sent his brother Victorion, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet to cut the Seven Kingdoms off at the Neck. He did not know I had commanded Ramsay Bolton to lead bannermen from the hill tribes to reinforce House Reed and the crannogmen who hold Moat Cailin.

We now hold the two heirs of the Seastone Chair and Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet captive, but the Kraken is not yet subdued. Word has reached us that Lord Balon has sent for all the reavers banished from Westeros by King Robert the Bold to return to the Iron Islands.

It is his intention to assemble an armada of 1000 ships to pillage the coast from Dorne to the Wall. To capture castles and create an colony in the North such as the ironborn once had in the Riverlands. This shall not come to pass. Lord Balon’s plans shall result in the annihilation of House Greyjoy, the cruel humbling of the Iron Islands.

In preparation for war I order the Lords of Bear Island, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen’s Square, Barrowton, Moat Cailin, Flint’s finger and Greywater Watch to send your children, women and feeble to shelter at Winterfell immediately. 

Post watchmen at the coast. Drive your herds inland to secret places. Hide your gold and food stores. Shore up your defenses and prepare for siege. 

All other Lords not under imminent threat are hereby ordered to reinforce the defenses of Winterfell with a hundred of your best able bodied fighting men, and prepare five hundred more to be mobilized within the month. 

Let all my loyal vassals read and obey my will with utmost urgency.  
I swear on my mother’s grave, before the first blizzard of winter makes the ground turn to stone, I will deliver my people from the Ironborn menace once and for all. 

In the name of the gods I claim victory for our just cause,

Lord Tyrion Stark-Lannister, Lord Paramount of the Trident, Consort of Winter  
Consort of Lady Sansa Stark-Lannister, Lady Paramount of Winter, Lady of the Trident

“When was that letter sent?” Captain Moredo asked.

“A month before King Joffrey's marriage Lord Tyrion’s bannermen mustered together, and sailed to the Iron Islands in Victarion Greyjoy’s captured fleet,” Ser kevan said. “Lord Tyrion’s initial surprise attack was a rout. He caught the majority of the Ironborn’s ships anchored off Pyke.” 

“We expect word my son’s victory any day,” Lord Tywin said smugly. “Once he has dealt with dispatching the salt wives to their families, and the executions are completed, compensation for your losses will come directly from the coffers of the reavers who robbed you Captain Moredo.”

“I am astonished and pleased.”

“By King Joffrey’s writ, all the treasure and land Tyrion seizes his to keep,” Lord Tywin warned severely. “I suggest you plead your case to my son’s wife Lady Sansa at Castle Riverrun, before your property ends up in her jewelry box or in my son’s treasure vaults.”

“You are dismissed from our presence Captain Moredo,” Ser Kevan said in conclusion. 

There were only Seven Kingdoms. The Lannisters directly controlled the West, the Rivers, the North, Iron Islands, and the Crownlands. They were married into the Vale through the Tullys and the Reach through the new queen. That left precious little room for Martells to maneuver. 

For weeks Prince Oberyn had openly scorned the Lannisters. He invited others to join him in his derision. Now it was revealed that Lord Tywin had held his peace because his family was on the cusp of dominating of half the realm; not because his hold on power was tenuous. 

Prince Oberyn felt exceeding foolish for not heeding his brother Doran’s request. Prince Oberyn had no idea what he would say when he returned home. He wondered in the scheming Tyrells had any idea the kind of voracious family they had married into. 

It was curious, Prince Oberyn reflected, that Lord Tyrion attacked the Iron Islands a weeks before Joffrey’s wedding, and Lord Tywin waited until the day of wedding to dispatch his eldest son, Ser Jaime and his grandson Prince Tommen to the Riverlands with 50 of the Crownlands best knights. 

Either Lord Tywin had not been sure of Lord Tyrion's victory and unwilling to risk the heir of Casterly Rock and the King Joffrey's heir on a public display of family unity the day of the royal wedding -

Or Lord Tywin had reason to be unsure of Lord Tyrion’s loyalty and he sent the Lord Commander of the King’s Guard and bannermen to hold Lady Sansa hostage at Riverrun under the guise of a gesture of goodwill. 

Prince Tommen’s rank would allow him to easily usurp Lady Sansa’s authority in the Riverlands and North during Lord Tyrion’s absence. Thus Lord Tyrion - if he valued his wife’s life - would be neatly prevented from finishing the war of independance Robb Stark started. Very clever.

Prince Oberyn could not help but admire Lord Tywin’s machinations. He made a note to himself to contact Lord Tyrion as soon as possible. No doubt, Lord Tyrion and Lady Sansa were just the sort of people his brother meant for him to befriend while in the capital.

Prince Oberyn examined the letter closely. It appeared to be authentic. It bore wax pressed with the wolf’s head ring of the Starks, and the leaping fish of the Tully’s. The sigils appeared slightly smaller than they should have been. The marks came from a lady’s ring, not a lord’s. 

Prince Oberyn wondered who had written the letter and pressed the wax: Lord Tyrion, Lady Sansa or someone else. If it was Lord Tyrion, why was he using his wife’s rings? If it was Lady Sansa was she writing lies? If so, what was she hiding? If it was someone else, then who? Why?

Prince Oberyn rolled the scroll again. He observed Lord Tywin and Ser Kevan Lannister conduct the king’s business. They were swift and efficient as two knives in the hands of one butcher. By an hour past noon time the brothers had cleared the entire line of petitioners. 

A single glance between the Lannisters was all the communication needed to make Ser Kevan excuse himself and take the guards standing beside the pillars with him. When the doors closed Prince Oberyn was alone with Lord Tywin and the two Dornish women. 

Tywin snapped his fingers and the two Dornish women jumped into action. Each women filled a plate with selection of delicate delicacies from the little table of refreshments and a goblet with wine. 

The two women took up kneeling positions beside the two men’s feet, with their heads lowered, holding up the food and drink like priests making an offering to their god. It rankled Oberyn’s pride to see Dornish women, naturally proud creatures of sensuous beauty, so reduced. 

Lord Tywin draped a napkin across his lap, took up the utensils laid across the plate and began eating his simple lunch of boiled quail eggs with seasoned yolks, honey dipped rye bread, soft cheese, dates, and olives without preamble. It was a simple meal more suited to a peasant than the a lord.

“Your hatred for my family is rather well known. The day you arrived in King’s Landing you persuaded a brothel keeper to serve ale to the public from a jar containing the severed head of Ser Gregor Clegane. How did you come to possess it?”

“I did not kill have the pleasure of killing your pet monster if that’s what you’re asking Lord Tywin. Although I wish I had. The head was an anonymous gift, left in chambers.” 

“Your secret admirer has...macabre taste, do you have any idea who it might be?”

“Imagine you want to tell me.”

“Why do you think someone would send you the head of my most notorious bannerman Prince Oberyn of Dorne?”

The Mountain Clegane had killed hundreds of people. The person who put Clegane’s head in a glass bottle of grain alcohol may commensurate with the Martell’s desire for revenge. 

The killer may have wanted to strike at the most famous symbol of the Lannister’s military dominance in Westeros. Clegane’s death might be a warning to Tywin Lannister written in blood, that not even monsters where invencible. 

The Mountain’s murderer may have tortured the Mountain for information first. No doubt Tywin’s favorite mass murderer was privy to scores of his master’s secrets. If pickling the mountain’s head was a red herring; then Oberyn was a fool for displaying the kill trophy, and bringing suspicion upon himself. 

Prince Oberyn was not about to admit to Lord Tywin he was the patsy of a mysterious person with mysterious motivations. 

“Do you think a the atrocities your men committed during the sack of King’s Landing are a secret? The Mountain smashed my niece and nephew’s heads against the walls like eggs. He raped my sister with her children’s blood still dripping from his hands. He cut her in half with his sword! He- ”

“Ser Gregor Clegane was, as you say my pet monster, and I indulged his violent appetites liberally. However the Mountain knew if he ever defied my explicit instructions, his death would take a year to finish. I ordered Princess Elia and her children not be touched, and they were not.” 

Oberyn was struck speechless for a moment, then he rose to his feet drawing his dagger. “You dare lie to me? My sister and her children were wrapped in cloaks of Lannister red when their corpses were delivered to Dorne -”

“You know this because you looked at her body and identified the corpse yourself? Or did you take your brother’s word for it?”

“She was split in two! The children’s skulls were crushed! How could I look upon such horror!”

“Did it never strike you as out of character for a Dornishmen that your brother never did anything to avenge your sister’s alleged gruesome death? Did you never wonder why?”

“Age and infirmity have made Doran a worried old women - too cautious to do what must be done -”

“Prince Doran did nothing because he knew Princess Elia is not dead. She escorted her faux corpse to Dorne to assured Prince Doran of her continued good health in person. Then she traveled to the West where I have kept her as involuntary guests ever since.”

“No - It can not be - You LIE - I’LL KILL YOU -”

“She is infact kneeling at your feet at this moment. You have permission to speak now, Princess Elia.”

“Tell Doran, my life is not worth whatever Tywin is offering Oberyn.”

“I quite agree, but Prince Doran is staunchly sentimental.”

“What bargain have you struck with my brother, Lord Tywin?”

“Your nephew was fostered with my brother Tygett and his wife as Tyrek. During the food riot of King’s Landing he vanished into thin air. No ransom was demanded. His body was never found.”

“Yet you believe he is still alive?”

“I am absolutely certain of it. Find him. Bring return him to me safe and sound. Then your sister and your lover are free to go back to Dorne.”

“Why in the seven hells would I hand you my nephew when your granddaughter is at the Water Gardens surrounded by my sand snakes?”

“Myrcella is as safe in Dorne as your niece Rhaenys is at Casterly Rock, and Princess Elia and Ellaria Sand are in their undisclosed accommodations here in the Red Keep. I took the liberty of having your paramour fetched off your ship to keep your sister company while you look for Tyrek.” 

“Aegon.”

“Baptize him Prince Pate the pig boy once he’s found if it pleases you Princess Elia! It does not signify what Tyrek is named while he is lost. ”


	5. Chapter 5

Her useless son, Lord Mace Tyrell had packed up and retreated to High Garden in the dead of night. The fool was too ashamed to show his face at court. Lord Tywin would not see her. Queen Cersei would not see her. The pimple pocked boy King Joffrey had outright laughed in her face.

Who was Lady Olenna Tyrell to make demands of the King of Westeros? She should be grateful for his forbearance. The High Septon had wanted 12 months confinement not 10. The only concession King Joffrey was willing to make was allowing Lady Olenna to visit Margaery in her holy seclusion.

The Queen of Thrones barreled out of the Red Keep’s throne room so quickly her ladies had to run to keep up. First Lady Olenna would see her granddaughter and ascertain with her own eyes that the little rose was not being abused. Then Lady Olenna Tyrell would rouse the armies of the Reach and retrieve her granddaughter by force. 

Her stupid son, the holy idiotic High Septon and all the fucking Lannisters be damned!

Lady Olenna Tyrell was short enough to be mistaken for a child at a distance, but stout as a barrel of golden Reach ale. When she was angry, the Queen of Thrones could part a crowd like a boulder rolling down the mountainside; and the Lady Tyrell was very, very, angry.

No one dared to approach her as she left went from the Throne Room to the Royal Sept then out the back. Lady Olenna was crossing the garden that separated the Royal Sept from the Maidenvault when Lord Varys stepped from behind a statue of the Stranger directly into her path.

The eunuch spymaster was dressed like a begging brother in a hooded robe of rough spun wool belted with rope. Only Lord Varys’ lower face was visible in the shadow of his hood. Although they had only met once, Lady Olenna recognized his double chin and smooth voice at once.

“What do you want?”

“I have heard of your troubles Lady Tyrell,” He said bowing from the waist with hands pressed together piously. “May I pray with you?” 

Lord Varys gestured to a fountain surrounded by a thick hedge of thorny roses blooming in yellow, white and pink. In the water of the fountain the Mother comforted children gathered about her legs, the Maiden knelt to tend a wounded soldier, and the Crone guided a young girl by the hand with her lantern raised high. 

The Queen of Swords sent her women on to the Maidenvault. Then she and Lord Varys sat together on the wide edge of the fountain, joined hands, bowed their heads close together in pretended to prayer. 

“You should advised your granddaughter to write to Lady Stark-Lannister. Queen Margaery should keep the bonds of their friendship fresh in Lady Sansa’s memory. The River-Winter’s continued goodwill is a flower well worthy cultivating.”

“Besides offer up her vulgar, ill-formed husband to act as court fool; what can that frightened North girl do for my granddaughter that I can not? ”

“Vulgar and ill-formed? Yes. There is no denying the obvious. There is also no denying Tyrion Lannister is Tywin’s true born son. Legitimate heir of Casterly Rock, an excellent administrator and a formidable warlord in his own right with a loyal army. Your granddaughter might find a friend with an army useful some day soon.”

“Tyrion’s authority over the Riverlords balances on the head of a pin. The North still hails no king not named Stark. I have even heard the dwarf has set sail to meet his death in the Iron Islands! No doubt Sansa’s uncles and brother will not wait to see his corpse before stealing all she has. Men are such greedy beasts.”

“When Lord Tyrion returns from the Iron Islands victorious he will be the undisputed master of the Island Rivers and the North. That is more than half the landmass of the entire Seven Kingdoms. His word will carry weight in court, and if he wants Margaery to be queen of the Seven Kingdoms who shall gainsay him?”

“Now you are a spider and a soothsayer? Does anyone truly know the depth and breadth of your talents eunuch?” 

“Lady Sansa has risen to new heights, but the North born do not forget their friends. Lord Tyrion will back your granddaughter with all his might and main if that is what Lady Sansa wants.”

“Clearly you over estimate the value a Lannister puts on the people they find it convenient to use. Sansa is nothing but a womb on legs to the lions. Sansa’s life won’t last long after she gives the imp a son or two that secure his claims to the Island Rivers North. We both know that.”

“Be the currency blood or gold Lannisters pay for what Lannisters wants. Lord Tywin broke his oath of honor when he sacked King’s Landing to make Cersei a queen. Lord Tyrion is the least parsimonious member of his house. He wants Lady Sansa. You see yourself the lengths he has gone to so far to win her.”

“They are married! In the eyes of the gods and by all the laws of Westeros Tyrion Lannister has as much of Sansa Stark as can be possessed by a mortal man! What more does the imp want from the poor girl? Her eternal soul?”

“Her love.”

“Pffftt! Tyrion should be content he has her cooperation and good humor. I’ve seen many couples make due with less. Not even a king can command a maid to love a man against her will. Aerys beat his sister wife like a Dothraki wardrum. Robert gave Cersei the throne yet he couldn’t get kindness or fidelity in return!”

“Queen Cersei came to King Robert a virgin. She brought a king’s ransom in gold and able bodied men as her dowry. Yet she could not get kindness or fidelity from him either.”

“Tywin paid the crown with its own coin. Cersei’s dowry was stolen from the Targaryen vaults when Tywin sacked King’s Landing. Besides that, Cersei knew what she was getting into. Robert Baratheon had a string of bastards from the Stormlands to the Vale long before they were married.”

“The same could be said for Queen Magaery. I’m told Lady Sansa personally warned her grace before she married, that King Joffrey is given to...unpredictable fits of temper.”

“Do not cross words with me -”

“Have you considered Lady Olenna that your granddaughter is safer sequestered in the Maidenvault than alone in King Joffrey’s bed chamber? Several young ladies who have gone to bed with the king have not lived to see the next morning. Your granddaughter is safe where she is for the present. I assure you.”

“You assure me? How would YOU know!... You did this! I should have known it was you who put the High Septon up to checking her maiden head at the bedding ceremony!”

“No, that was not my idea. That is royal protocol for every women entering into a royal marriage.”

“Cersei never -”

“Oh yes she did. It was done in the bedchamber after the bedding ceremony. Lord Tywin bore witness to the High Septon and Most Devout Septa’s examination with one hand on the hilt of his sword. Prince Doran bore witness to Princess Elia’s examination before that.”

“Did Tywin intend to kill Queen Cersei or the holy folk if the report had been unfavorable?”

“I have always wondered, but never asked.”

“Who’s idea was it to have my granddaughter groped like a broodmare in a horse market during her wedding feast?” 

“Queen Cersei wanted the examination to be done publicly to avoid any accusations of injustice.”

“Who wanted her imprisoned?”

“Having Queen Margaery be daily subjected to the rigorous religious instruction of the Most Devout Septas while the court waits for the Maesters to certify her womb clear of Renly Baratheon’s bastards was actually the High Septon’s idea. Queen Cersei wanted the marriage annulled, and Queen Margaery beheaded.”

“You could not have warned us?”

“Why should I done so? Queen Margaery is in no physical danger. Besides...you did not trust me with the details of your plans with Baelish.”

“I did not think you would approve, and I don’t need your approval.”

“I don’t approve. The timing is premature. I agree, you don’t need my approval. However as you can see, things go much smoother when we work together for the good of the realm.”

"Let me make my position clear: fail me again in deed or in action and I'll have you gelded a second time Lord Varys."

"I will keep that in mind Lady Olenna. In the meantime, I council patience with the current situation."

“Patience? I'm fresh out of patience, but a thirst for vengeance? That I've got in abundance. I’ll see them boiled in oil for humiliating my granddaughter before the court. They shamed my son’s and Tyrell’s honor -”

“Who told Lord Tyrell to perjure himself by swearing to King Joffrey and his court that Queen Margaery was still a virgin? Queen Margaery could easily have confessed her experience. It is public knowledge she was married to Lord Renly. You should thank me for sparing your granddaughter Joffrey’s intimate attentions.”

“If you think you’ve done my house a kindness I can’t imagine what you have done do to your enemies.”

“I know you are angry with me Lady Olenna -”

“Damn right I am!”

“But you must understand. I serve the good of the realm. I firmly believe your granddaughter will be a superior Queen of the Seven Kingdoms...with the proper king at her side. For now, Queen Magaery should listen, watch and bide her time.”

“Her time is NOW!”

“Her time is nigh, but not now...Lady Olenna even you must concede that since none of you were able to predicted or prepared for this...unexpected development...Queen Magaery is not quite as ready for the intrigues swirling around the Iron Throne as she likes to think she is.”


	6. Chapter 6

The Ironborn had harassed the shores of the North for so long, that the Kings of Winter had time to build watch towers along their shore from the Neck to the Wall on both the east and west coast. Unfortunately like the Wall in the North, there were few able bodies to man the Watch Towers.

 

The Watch Tower down river from Moat Cailin was little more than a shell of stones built in a circle  with a balcony facing the sea and the foot of the cliffs. A Crannogmen fisherman's extended family had built a cluster of low buildings with reed thatched roofs inside from the stones that had fallen off the tower.   

 

Lord Tyrion Lannister had appropriated the largest of the fishermen shacks to use as a council chamber during the day. At night he slept in a tent on the beach with his assembled forces. 

 

The dwarf was well aware, that as an outsider in the midst of First men, he could not afford to put himself above his company in anyway.

 

Ser Payne had asked Lord Reed to accompany him to see Lord Tyrion, but had not said why.

 

Lord Howland Reed pushed aside the heavy leather that acted as a door and ducked his head when he entered Lord Tyrion’s improvised war room followed by closely Ser Podrick Payne. The Crannogmen were not tall. The sensibly built their homes small, because low ceiling rooms were easier to heat than large. 

 

One end of the long room had a heap of straw piled with furs for a bed where the entire family slept together like dogs for warmth. The other end of the room held pegs, hooks, and trunks that held all the family’s worldly goods. 

 

Lord Tyrion stood with his back to the fireplace behind the a low table in the middle space. With his back to the fire, the Lord Lion cast a shadow like the Mountain Clegane. The unproportioned features of Lord Tyrion’s face looked devilish in the flame dancing half darkness of the windowless room.    

 

It made Lord Reed wonder if all the stories he heard about the Lion-wolf, the half-man, the imp, were true or hearth tales for scaring children.

 

The plank table was little taller than Lord Reed’s knee. Too low to the ground for chairs or stools. Sea charts, maps of the North, maps of the Iron Islands, and lists were spread over the table’s surface. Lord Tyrion was sipping a from a clay mug of tea and making notes with a quill.

 

“You bring news  Ser Payne or more discontented grousing about the waiting?” Lord Tyrion asked without looking up. 

 

Lord Reed cringed a little. He had lent his voice to the very vocal complaints about Lord Tyrion’s calm indolence. They had the Ironborn’s ships, sailors, weapons, charts, provisions, and the element of surprise. Everyone BUT Lord Tyrion agreed they had everything necessary to attack the Ironborn.    

 

Lord Reed stood in front of the table, slightly stooped over. Ser Payne stepped around Lord Reed to go to Lord Tyrion’s side. Ser Payne dropped to one knee beside Lord Tyrion. “My lord, a falcon arrived.” He extended a tightly rolled scroll of paper.

 

“Finally!” Lord Tyrion took the little tube of paper from Ser Payne read it quickly then tossed into the fire behind him.

 

“What is the word?” Lord Reed asked.

 

“Balon Greyjoy is dead. The Greyjoys and their captains are gathering on Old Wyk for a King’s Moot.”

 

“A what?” Ser Payne asked.

 

“When the succession is contested,” Lord Tyrion explained. “The Ironborn elect their kings like the Most Devout elect the High Septon.”

 

“That’s a slap dash way to go about it!” Lord Reed said disdainfully. “Being popular is not the same as being a wise, just, leader of men!”

 

“What do you expect from an island founded by rapist, murders and thieves?” Lord Tyrion retorted. “Ser Payne clear this tower. Rally the men on the beach. We sail with the tide. They expect Victorian and his fleet to attend the King’s Moot. We don’t want to disappoint them. Lord Reed please stay behind.”

 

“Heard and done.” Ser Payne bounded his heart with a fist before rising to his feet and hurriedly leaving.

 

Lord Tyrion waited until he heard Ser Payne round up all the people in the Watch Tower and herd them outside before he gestured to Lord Reed to take a seat. Lord Reed came around the table and sat on the edge of the hearth, and Lord Tyrion sat beside him. 

 

“What I tell you now, does not leave this room, understood? Do not breathe a word of this to Podrick or Bronn.”

 

“Speak your mind Lord Tyrion.” 

 

“Lord Ramsay Bolton is plotting with Lady Asha Greyjoy to murder me. It seems that Lady Greyjoy has convinced Lord Bolton he can be King of the North and Rivers if he cooperates with her scheming.”

 

“Madness! Lady Sansa has four brothers! How could Ramsay hope to usurp them all?”

 

“It is not complete madness. If the Stark men all  died. If Lord Ramsay takes my Lady Sansa as a second wife, gains the support of the Karstarks and gives support to Lord Stannis’ claim to the Iron Throne. That would be enough to take the North Rivers.”

 

“Why haven’t you shared this with your two most trusted bannermen?”

 

“Podrick and Bronn would kill first and worry about the consequences latter.”

 

“As well they should!”

 

“Now is not the time to think blunt instruments. We must be the needle, not the sword. To much is at stake to be careless!”

 

“You life is at stake! Kill Bolton before we set sail!”

 

“The timing is not right. The Boltons are second only to the Starks as you know. If I kill Lord Ramsay for what I think he’ll do, that will cause the Bolton bannermen to rebel. Also Lady Jeyne Bolton is my wife’s dearest friend and she is pregnant. If Lord Ramsay dies an accused traitor then his heir will suffer for it.”

 

“You are trying to hold water in your fist! Let me kill the bastard and be done with it!”

 

“Lord Reed, I’m not trying to make you my assassin! I need another pair of eyes on Lord Bolton. You were the only person besides Ser Podrick and Ser Bronn who noticed Lord Ramsay spent a lot of time near Victorian Greyjoy’s cell. Watch him. Lord Bolton will draw all the traitors out like shit draws flies.”

 

“To think, I was worried Bolton might sneak in and flay Greyjoy alive!”

 

“I should be so lucky...no my enemies never think to kill each other. Only me.”

 

“You saved my family from being killed and kidnapped by Victorian Greyjoy’s band of reavers. You can count on me to protect your life!”

 

“I have Bronn and Podrick to guard my life. I need someone who will guard my wife’s best interest besides myself.” 

 

“Surely her family -”

 

“Lady Catlyn supported my wife’s union to King Joffrey. Lord Robb and Lady Catlyn arranged a match between Lady Arya and Lord Frey's twenty second son. That was a bad match for a merchant's daughter let alone a daughter of Winterfell. Anyone with common sense would have married Arya to one of Mace Tyrell's sons, and brokered a match between Stannis Baratheon and Mageary for the throne.”

 

“You think Lord Robb and Lady Catlyn would sell Lady Sansa to Ramsay Bolton if you died?”

 

“I know they would. Which is why I made Jon Stark my heir in the North. Even if I’m killed, they can’t use Lady Sansa to take back Winterfell. If nothing else, the Karstarks, who are third after Boltons, would not support it.”

 

“They could put forth Bran or Rickon.”

 

“Bran is crippled. Rickon is little more than a babe. In troubled times people don’t want to follow a cripple or an infant. They want a strong man to lead them. Jon Stark is a strong man.”

 

“You think Lady Sansa can hold her seat in the Riverlands without you? The Rivermen will turn back to Edmure Tully.”

 

“Lord Edmure had shown himself even more of an arse than Lord Robb, and Lord Brynden is old. Besides that my father killed most of the Riverlords and I have stocked their empty halls with men of the Hills tribes. The Hill tribe chiefs have sworn their swords to my wife. They owe nothing to the Tully Lords.”

 

“You seem to have thought of everything.”

  
“It is a lord’s duty to consider how his actions or inactions might affect the people under his care. Lady Sansa, Lord Jon and Ser Payne are my heirs. Their welfare is always an uppermost concern in my mind.” 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Noone attending the dinner welcoming Prince Tommen to the Riverlands, was unaware of the fractious relations of the  Stark-Tully-Lannister family. Some had even placed bets on how long it would take for the nobles at the high table to come to blows and who would throw the first punch.

 

By unspoken accord the high family did not shame themselves by giving their subordinates fodder for their gossip. The rictus teeth baring smiles plastered on the faces of Ser Jamie and Lady Catelyn in particular resembled a mummers paper mache mask: large, fake and visible from the back of the hall.

 

Lady Genna draw a blue silk handkerchief embroidered with a leaping trout in silver thread from her ample cleavage. Then proceeded to dabbed at the sweat on her neck and her heaving bosom in a seductive manner that made Lord Brynden pour wine in his lap instead of his mouth. 

 

Otherwise, the lavish meal concluded without incident. 

 

As soon as the desert dishes were cleared away Lady Sansa daintily dabbed her lips with a napkin, then rose from her chair. Everyone else quickly followed her example. Looking up to the heavens with her hands raised in supplication Sansa addressed the assembly. Sansa’s voice, well trained by singing, carried clearly throughout the hall.

 

“Let us pray. Gods old and new. Give your faithful children a peaceful night’s rest. Tomorrow make us, your humble servants, cheerful in our work; careful to keep your divine laws for the sake of our soul’s salvation. We pray for your blessings upon our king, the good work of our hands, our family’s prosperity and our Lord Tyrion's victory in the Iron Islands. Bring him and his host safely home.  Amen.”

 

The people solemnly replied,” Amen.” 

 

“On the morrow, before the evening Examination of Conscious, we will gather here again friends to hear Prince Tommen deliver King Joffrey’s royal epistle to the Riverlands. Thank you honored guest for favoring our family with your company this evening. The gods bless you and keep you safe until we meet again.”

 

“The gods bless you and keep you as well,” the crowd responded. 

 

Prince Tommen looked about in confusion as the musicals who had performed during the entirety of the meal packed up their instruments and headed for the servant’s entrances hidden in the shadowy corners on the side of the hall.

 

“We shall not having amusements now?” he asked. “There will be no dancing? No music?”

 

“No your grace. We do not make merry on a weekday. We all must rise early to earn our daily bread by the sweat our brow and the grace of the gods above. We would be ill prepared for our tasks tomorrow, if we did not rest tonight,” Lady Sansa said gently. “If it please your grace, I will show you the way to your rooms now.”

 

Prince Tommen automatically offered Lady Sansa his arm. Despite their sizable height difference Lady Sansa hooked her hand into the crook of Prince Tommen’s arm and matched his smaller stride with easy grace. Ser Jaime mused she got a lot of practice leading short men around like a little dog on a leash walking with Tyrion. 

 

They began making their way across the dias behind the table to the stairs. “But surely you don’t mean to go to sleep now?” Tommen protested incredulously looking from Sansa to the stain glass windows spilling color across the pearlesque white walls and floor of the great hall like a kaleidoscope. “The sun has not even set!”

 

“When Lord Tyrion is in residence, it is our habit to take a leisurely stroll together after dinner. The gardens are especially fragrant and lovely in the soft light of evening,” she admitted looking dreamily into the middle distance, then shook herself. “Since my lord is away, I shall retire to our rooms to pray for his safe return.”

 

Before Prince Tommen could speak, Ser Jaime hurryed forward. He drew up beside the mismatched couple and bowed to the lady, bringing their procession to the exit to a stand still. Ser Jamie needed to get Lady Sansa alone to carry out his father’s order. Only then could he return to Cersei’s side in King’s Landing.

 

“There is no need to make it an early evening good sister,” said Ser Jaime in his most charming voice. “I would be honored to escort-”

 

“I thank you for your kindness Lord Commander,” Lady Sansa replied politely, but firmly. “But my lord husband does not like me to spend my evenings with other men.” 

 

“I’m his brother. Surely he would not mind if I -”

 

“Forgive my insistence upon the point Lord Commander,” Lady Sansa cut in, meekly dropping her eyes down at her feet. “It is not my place to interpret my lord husband’s will. He speaks. I hear and obey.” 

 

“As you should -” Jamie agreed quickly. 

 

Lady Sansa looked looked up at Ser Jamie with wide eyes and the innocent expression of naive child, “Is that not my duty as a godly women and dutiful wife? To faithfully serve and obey my lord husband at all times? Even in his absence?” 

 

“Yes of course,” Ser Jamie replied, nodding. “I would never suggest otherwise, but -” 

 

Lady Sansa smiled sweetly at Ser Jaime, “I knew you would understand. My lord has always told me you are a man of superior understanding Lord Commander Lannister.” Lady Sansa swept past Ser Jaime without further comment. 

He was a Knight of the King’s Guard. A shrewd battle tested swordsmen. He was trained from his first babbling word and stumbling step to be Lord of the West by none other than the great Tywin Lannister, King of the Lions. Jamie prided himself on his ability to read the measure of a man like Tyrion read books.

 

The knight felt Lady Sansa had out maneuvered him, but could not see how she had. There was nothing to pretty little Sansa. She was a lady doll. An lovely, empty headed womb who warmed his brother's bed. Nothing more.

 

Sansa Stark was the daughter of dirty, bearded Northern barbarians. According to Cersei, before coming to the capital Sansa had never left the North, never gone more than two leagues from Winterfell. Sansa was a silly young girl with a head full of romantic bard songs, pretty gowns, handsome knights and making babies.  

 

Lady Genna linked her arm through Ser Jaime’s and they followed behind the young noble couple as they descended the dias stairs and across the great hall to the doors. Lady Sansa had a gracious smile for all her people. The ones she spoke to, she called by name, and they responded like sunflowers turning toward the sun.

 

The wealthy merchants, the diminished host of Riverlords, the multitudes of widows, daughters, sisters, aunts,  and mothers of dead Riverlords, the North and Western knights hoped to marry one of those women and earn the chance to be master of a manor estate or castellan of a castle by Tyrion’s grace all bowed and curtseyed as Sansa smiled and spoke to them.

 

Lady Genna held Ser Jaime back so that they were at the tail end of Lady Sansa and Prince Tommen’s procession, then she pulled him sit beside her on a bench that had not been taken away yet. The lords, ladies, and gentry who followed closely behind Lady Sansa, Prince Tommen and their families emptied out the doors of the great hall. 

 

As the guests left the porters swarmed in from the dark corners that hide the servants entrances. The young boys began to sweep floor, fold up the table clothes, and break down the long trestle tables under the supervision of a butler. Under the clatter of the clean up, Ser Jamie tilted his head close to his aunt Genna’s ear and spoke. 

 

“Is Lady Sansa always the life of the party or is she showing off just for my benefit?” Ser Jamie asked his aunt Genna.

 

“I’ve watched her for over half a year. The girl is so straightforward, she’s almost simpleminded. Lady Sansa can’t lie to save her life. Everything she’s thinking is written right there on her face like the words on the pages of a book.”

 

“Has she settled into her role as mistress of Riverrun? Or is Catelyn Stark running the house?”

 

“Didn’t you see? Catelyn bends the knee to Sansa’s authority like everyone else. Sansa rules the roost with a strict discipline befitting one of Tywin’s war camps. She’s so subservient to Tyrion - you’d think she was his daughter not his wife. Gods, her piety is tiresome. I hope you ate well, tomorrow we will be a fasting day.”

 

“What about her ladies? Her handmaidens? Are they all holy boring aspiring septas?”

 

“Actually both her handmaidens are full Septas one is from the capital, I don’t know anything about the other one yet. Both of them worship the ground Sansa walks on as if she is the Maiden made flesh.”

 

“What about her ladies in waiting?”

 

“The one with the frizzy brown curls is Jeyne Westerling, a daugher of Castle Crag. She is all but betrothed to Tyrion’s favorite knight Ser Podrick Payne. She’s a nice, shy girl, but her grandmother is an Volanti fire witch and her mother Sybil was hocking spices dockside in Lannisport when she caught Gawen Westerling’s eye.”

 

“The Paynes have served our family faithfully for generations; marriage to a half heathen merchant’s daughter hardly seems a fitting reward. Surely Tyrion has one or two pretty Frey girls still locked up in the Twins? The Freys may be a bit vinegary, but their vintage is still older and better than cheap tavern ale from the east.”

 

“The Freys are full of shit, not vinegar. Ser Podrick couldn’t care less about the girl’s eastern blood or mercantile grandparents. It’s a love match. On both sides.”

 

“Good luck to him. With that gasping fish wife for a mother in law, he’s certainly going to need it. The Westerlings were in the Captial when I left trying to get an audience with father, but he would not see them.”

 

“I heard the Lady of Crag drove a hard bargain for her part in the Frey plot. Did she really demand her brother be elevated to Lordship of Castamere, both her daughters be married to first born noble sons, and her sons be knighted by Kevan?”

 

“And she wanted 1000 gold dragons. Father was actually relieved the Westerlings and Spicers failed him  so spectacularly at the Twins. Not only did father not hand over Castamere to them - he stripped them of the Crag.”

 

“I heard a rumor from a wine merchant, that your father ran the whole family out of the West at sword point.”

 

“Uncle Kevan took two legions of the Golden Horde to the Crag in the middle of the night. He roused them out of bed, then gave them an hour to pack up and leave. Most of their servants chose to stay with the castle rather than follow their master into exile.”

 

“That’s what happens when your ambitious out strip your abilities - “

 

“Who is Sansa’s other lady in waiting? I thought I saw two at the end of the table by her sister Arya?”

 

“Lady Bolton. Daughter of Winterfell’s steward and Sansa’s oldest friend. She went to King’s Landing with Sansa to be her lady in waiting at court, but became an orphan. Tywin wrote to me that Cersei sold her to that whoremaster Petyr Baelish, who passed her off to Roose Bolton and his bastard as Arya Stark.”

 

“Gods above!” Ser Jamie exclaimed, a sick feeling like a brick of salt settled uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He should have immediately recognized the pretty brown haired girl who followed behind Lady Catelyn and sat beside Arya Stark at the high table. 

 

Her name was Jeyne Poole. Ser Jamie first saw Jeyne Poole at Castle Winterfell during Robert Baratheon’s visit north. She was constantly arm in arm with Sansa Stark. He saw her again at King’s Landing. Ser Jaime and Lady Brienne had both been present when Jeyne Poole was handed over to Steelshanks Walton.  

 

He had stopped Brienne from mounting an ill advised rescue attempt because he was certain, based on what he had learned from Steelshank’s men about Ramsey Snow’s violent nature, that the Arya Stark imposter would be dead long before she became a problem for the Lannister family. He even gave her a parting gift.

 

“Don’t pretend to be shocked. Cersei is forever hatching vicious schemes without any attempt to hide her culpability or any consideration for the consequences. Tywin spared the rod and spoiled that girl. She  grew up thinking she could get away everything. Now the chickens are coming home to roost.”

 

“While you’re throwing Cersei under the wagon wheels, I hope you remember your fate and that of your children is intricately tied to Cersei’s. If she should fall, the splash will certainly drown all your petty ambitions Aunt Genna.”

 

Lady Genna laughed out loud. “Is that the best threat you can muster foolish boy? I give you credit for being slightly more subtle than your sister, but you are certainly no better. Tyrion is the only one of you three who turned out anything like your father. You and Cersei are all Joanna. The seven gods rest her spiteful soul.”

 

“All this time I thought you and my mother were friends.”

 

“Joanna was my best friend, but that did not make me blind to her faults,” Genna said fiercely. “We loved each other like sisters. If I had not loved Joanna I certainly would not have wasted my youth trying to rear her ungrateful children after she died. Hells, if I had not loved Joanna, you would never have even been born!”

 

“I’ve heard you take credit for many things that have nothing to do with you Aunt Genna, but that takes the cake! Let me guess, my mother let you carry Cersei while she had me herself? Or do you claim to some how be both our mothers?”

 

“For your information boy, Joanna and I were locked up in the same convent during the war of the ninepenny kings. I invited her to attend my father Tytos' victory feast for Tywin. Joanna was from the Riverlands, she introduced me to Brynden. In return I presented her to Tywin. It was love at first sight for both of us.”

 

“Father never told me that story. I thought my parents met at the court of Aerys Targaryen.”

 

“There are a lot of things Tywin hasn’t told you, but what do I know? All I do is credit for other people’s work.  I’m such a burden on the family -."

 

“Aunt Genna, I’m sorry -”

 

“There’s no need to apologize, Lord Commander. I contribute so little to the family. I only rule the West while Tywin, Kevan and all the rest serve one mad inbred king after another or make war after useless war -”

 

“Aunt Genna -”

 

“I only nurse Cersei safely through her pregnancies because she turned the whole court against herself and can trust no one-”

 

“Auntie Gen please -”

 

“Or finding a Maester to cure the crotch itch you two caught from Robert Baratheon’s love of double jointed Essoi whores-”

 

“I’m sorry!”

 

“I give so little and ask so much. It’s a wonder anyone puts up with me. Well I shan’t trouble you anymore." Genna patted Jamie's thigh and got to her feet. "I’m sure you can handle whatever clandestine mission Lord Tywin has sent you to accomplish in Lord Tyrion’s court without my bumbling interference.”

 

“Forgive me. I spoke too hastily, too harshly -”

 

“And too disrespectfully, but you are entitled to your opinion," She said with an unconcerned shrug. "Just as I am entitled to decide for myself whether or not I wish to be involved in Tywin’s latest plot to take over Westeros rename it Lannister-land, and call King’s Landing Tywin-town.”

 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! What can I do to make it up to you?”

 

“Start by bringing back Cleos and Tion. Remember them? My two sons who died in the war you started between Cersei’s legs? I think Kevan lost a few children too, but I can’t say for sure. I don’t want to take credit for knowing something you already know.”

 

“Don’t pretend you ever gave a damn about Emmon Frey or Cleos!”

 

“And Tion? How should I feel about my baby boy?”

 

Jamie was used to commanding men, not dealing with emotionally volatile women. He only managed Cersei's mercurial moods by lavishing her with sexual affection. Jamie could not have sex with his aunt, and she was not accepting his apologies. 

Tired from his long journey and frustrated by his Aunt Genna's sudden flare of capricious temper Jamie lashed out angrily. “People die in wars! You know that! Gods will you let it go?”

 

“Let. It. Go?" She asked frostily crossing her arms under her breast. She looked at Jamie with all granite faced judgment of Tywin Lannister about to sentence a man to death in the lion pit of Casterly Rock.  "Let go of my fury that your selfish perversion cost me two of my children? Or let go of my grief that two of my children are dead?"

 

Jamie hung his head in shame. The Lord Commander of the King's guard could tell from her voice, he was just as guilty of killing his cousins as the man who swung the sword in Genna's eyes, and now she would never forgive him. 

 

Lady Genna Frey had no castles, no armies, and no fortune but she had decades of knowledge and experience. Tyrion and Cersei learned their political games at Genna's knee. At war tables men shut up when Genna spoke for the Hellcat of Lannister was to politics what Tywin was to war. 

 

Jamie had once heard a rumor from his aunt Dorna, that Genna acted as Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar go between. That she passed their love notes and arranged Lyanna's abduction to bring down house Targaryen because King Aerys refused to make Cersei the next Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. 

Jamie regretted his two cousin's deaths for Genna's sake. He really regretted turning his loyal aunt into an enemy for his own sake. When his father found out about this, there would be hell to pay.

 

"Perhaps you’ll teach me how it’s done after they stone your little bastard Joffrey in the streets of King’s Landing.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

  
“Wouldn’t you like to know what’s been going on in the capital while you’ve been out on the road. Well I shan’t spoil the surprise.” Lady Genna turned her back on Ser Jamie and walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

“The small folk want to be rich. The rich want to be noble. The nobles want to be king. Lord Tywin...He wants to be a god.”

The choppy waves crashing on the beach below the castle were a pleasant background noise that had covered the sound of Lady Olenna’s approach across the gravel path. Her lumbering twin escorts loitered ten feet away with nothing to do but watch him distrustfully.

Prince Oberyn Martell looked up from the letter he was writing to see Lady Olenna Tyrell standing on the opposite side of his table in the gardens of the Red Keep. The weather was clear, but very windy. A wine jug and cup were holding his scroll down on the table.

Prince Oberyn had assumed that all the people he did not want to meet would be dissuaded from seeking him out the garden by the possibility of dirt from the path blowing into their eyes and the wind disarranging their hair.

He did not count on Lady Olenna wanting a second encounter after their unpleasant introduction in the bailey of the Red Keep before the royal wedding took place.

“A fittingly unattainable ambition for a recalcitrant conceited tyrant. The gods willing the pursuit of the impossible will drive Tywin mad as Aerys Targaryen.” Prince Oberyn rolled up the paper he had been writing on. He put the letter to his brother Doran and his writing instruments away in their travel tube.

Remembering his brother Doran’s request that he find friends in the Lannister court Prince Oberyn stood up and pulled out a chair for Lady Olenna on the other side of the table. “Won’t you sit and join me?”

Lady Olenna sat down. She made no attempt at small talk. “Lord Tywin is coming very close. If no one dies he’ll have blood ties to almost every realm in Westeros.”

“Joffrey’s married the Reach. Myrcella’s betrothed to Dorne. Tommen is the soul heir of Storm’s End. Once Stannis is dealt with.Tyrion’s sons will hold the Riverlands, Iron Islands and North. If Kevan’s daughter can be wed to the Arryn heir before he dies that’s all the kingdoms.”

“All the little fingers, attached to Lord Tywin’s gilded fist.” Lady Olenna raised a hand and clenched it tight in front of Prince Oberyn’s face as if snatching something and holding it tight.

“He is living every lord’s wet dream of glory: immortality through his bloodline, and omnipotence through his family's armies and his position as Hand of the King. He could not be more insufferably pleased with himself if he had a dragon to ride.”

“How can you tell?” Prince Oberyn asked curiously. “I’ve only seen him with one facial expression. An curiously amusing cross between constipation and disdain.”

“Yesterday. I swear I almost saw the man crack a smile.”

“Ah. That explains the cold wind kicking up the sea. Hell has frozen over...How long do you think it will be before they start minting the coins with lions and Casterly Rock on them instead of dragons or stag?”

“This is no laughing matter Prince Oberyn!” Lady Olenna slapped a hand on the table. “Family legacy is Tywin’s religion. He is a jealous wrathful god who will countenance none to stand above him. Tywin will grind us to dust beneath his boot heel. We must work together to thwart him.”

“So I’ve learned.”

“Be grateful Lord Tywin has only taken your concubine,” Lady Olenna said bitterly.

“Be careful how you speak of my love Lady Olenna. Ellaria is more to me than just a paramour.”

“Yes,” Lady Olenna drawled lazily. “She is the mother of your children, but even that distinction does not make Ellaria Sand unique. She is the mother to only four of your eight bastard daughters. If you love her as much as you claim you should have married her three daughter ago.”

“To strike a shriveled old women such as yourself would embarrass the honor my ancient, noble house. However even my pacifist brother would not object to me challenging your milksop son or one of your darling grandsons to a duel to answer for your tart tongue. Would you like that?”

“You would not dare!”

“It would be so simple. Over there where he is trying to watch us furtively by the fountain?"  
Lady Olenna glanced to the side and saw her grandson on a stone bench half hidden by the falling water of a burbling fountain. He was batting at a humming bird, determined to drink from the flower jauntily tucked into the lapel of his jerkin. 

"That scamp! He followed me!"

"See how Ser Loras sits uneasily upon that hard pew? I wager Loras's lover rode him very hard last night. To much enthusiasm. Not enough oil. Suppose I were to share my observations in a loud voice? He would have no choice but the challenge me,and then -”

“You would murder him.”

“Right before your eyes. In this very garden, among these lovely roses. Would that not be a fitting end for a descendant of the Throne Queen?....As the the holy men say the tongue has the power of life and death; those who love to talk will reap the consequences... Apologize. Now.”

“I sincerely regret implying Lady Ellaria Sand is anything less than the penultimate love of your life. Will you forgive me Prince Oberyn?”

Oberyn threw back his head and laughed. “Such fire! If you were but forty years younger -”

“I’d bury you as I did my first husband.”

“Who says I’d marry you?”

Before Lady Olenna could reply Queen Cersei was briefly visible as she passed through a cross roads in the rose hedges a little distance away, followed by her guards and Petyr Baelish.

“What tune do suppose Lord Mockingbird has trilled to his masters today?” Lady Olenna derisively. “The Rains of Castamere? Or gossip he’s scooped up at his flesh markets?”

“Why would the Lord Protector of the Vale wish to sing the Lannister family theme song?” Prince Oberyn looked after the queen and her entourage head tilted curiously. “I was given to understand the Lady Arryn believes the Lannisters had a hand in her first husband’s death.”

“Lady Arryn might very well believe that, but Lord Baelish owes everything he has to the Lannisters.”

“Oh? Who was Baelish before he became a Lannisters pet?”

“A common flesh peddler from the sticks. He grew rich as Master of Coin under King Robert. Tyrion sent him to broker Margaery’s marriage to Joffrey. Queen Cersei gave him Harrenhal for that. Which made him important enough to marry Lady Arryn.”

“A clever man with ambition and no family loyalty to trip up his climb. You would think the Lannisters of all people would know better than to feed a stray cat scraps from their table, then expect him to sit quietly watching while they feast on steak.”

“You suspect Baelish? Of what?”

“I don’t suspect him of anything, but I would not trust Baelish to watch my shadow in a dark room. Baelish is the sort of cat that will jump onto the table to take what he wants sooner or later. Hunger is a powerful motivation. I have seen his kind before. Among sellswords and reavers.”

Lady Olenna looked skeptical. “You think Baelish can be useful to us?”

“Have you ever seen his eyes?”

“No. I do not spend my days gazing into the eyes of miserable little men.”

“Baelish gaze is like a immoral boy who has just discovered sex. All watching eyes and barely controlled urges. He’ll fuck who ever he can, by what ever means he can. Seduction with sweet words. Strong wine with a powder in it. Just enough force to dominate, but leave no marks.”

“You speak from experience Prince Oberyn? Did some burly ser lure you into a compromising position when you were a stringy greasy little boy?” Lady Olenna teased.

“Yes. Then after I tired of fucking him, I fucked his fiancee.”

“You are an equal opportunist!” Lady Olenna said with admiring delight. “Most men don’t have the imagination to give and receive! Did they still invite you to the wedding?”

“There was no wedding, unfortunately. She came to prefer my attention to his. He was of a very jealous nature, you see. We dueled. I killed him. She went into a convent.” Prince Oberyn drank deeply from his wine. Clearly still affected by the tragedy he had carelessly brought on his lovers.

“Lord Edgar Yronwood wasn’t it? I heard about that. Your brother had to send little Quentyn to foster in the Boneway to pacify the Yronwoods.”

“Quentyn enjoyed his time with the Yronwoods, and they love him as their own. I am the one still grieving. It was such a waste. Edgar and Tish were both very fine people. Very tight. Very eager to please me. It is because of them I do not come between couples. Too this day; that is my rule.”

“At least you learned something useful from your experience.I wish you’d have a word with Loras. He might heed another man’s wisdom on the valor of discretion. The fanatical fuddie duddies of Baelor Sept are beating the moral drum with two sticks. He won’t take my warnings seriously.”

“Having Queen Mageary in their clutches has emboldened them.”

“That is what I’m counting on.”

“What have you done?” Prince Oberyn leaned forward to hear eagerly.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Lady Olenna said in a low voice. “Promise you’ll look suitably shocked when the time comes -”

“Like Sansa Stark on her wedding night with the dwarf -”

“Can you think of anything besides pricks for five minutes together?” Lady Olenna demanded exasperated by Prince Oberyn’s foolishness and amused by the thought in equal measure.

“Let me have you for one night - you’ll think of nothing besides pricks too. My prick. Satisfying you for long hours. I’ll put a spring in your step old women. I’ll leave you sore and smiling foolishly for days.”

“Prince Oberyn!” Lady Olenna said, looking offended. Her twin guards started forward but she waved them back. “Focus on the task at hand!”

“I’m sorry. Force of habit Lady Olenna.” Prince Oberyn favored Lady Olenna with a seductively charming smile, to excuse himself. “You were saying you have a surprise for me. Something I’ll like?”

“You consort with low people, no doubt you’ve heard several hundred people disappeared during the revel for the small folk celebrating the royal wedding?”

“Close to a thousand -”

“What if I told you they were kidnapped. By slavers from the east.”

“How -”

“My son is Master of Ships. His forces stopped three boats as they were cruising past Dragonstone. A routine random check to make sure all the cargo had the proper export papers. Instead of wool or rope or iron they found two hundred women, girls and boys shackled in the hold.”

“Everyone from the Port of Ibben to Qarth knows slavery is illegal in the Seven Kingdoms! What did the captains have to say for themselves?”

“Well someone should have told his Majesty King Joffrey. His name and seal were all over their documents.“

“Why would that stupid boy do such a thing?”

“Robert the bold and Cersei the slut dug the crown into a hole several million gold dragons deep.”

“I had heard a rumor -”

“It is a fact. Pudding brain probably thought he had found a clever way to balance the books. He might have gotten away with it. Unfortunately not all of the disappeared are the children of smallfolk and merchants. Dozens are the children of lords of the realm who slipped away from their parents attending the royal wedding to party with the peasants. Some are the children of them Western Lords. In town as Tywin’s honored guests.”

“Not even Lord Tywin gold shitting Lannister can wrap that up in clean linen and pass it off as a chocolate pastry...well since you have given me such a delightful surprise I shall share a little secret with you...Queen Cersei is not a lonely widow.”

“Everyone knows she fucks her brother. That’s why we had the war!”

“Does everyone also know she has a weekly assignation with two knights of the King’s Guard, and surreptitiously consumes gallons of moon tea? I have arranged for her usual contraceptive brew rendered ineffective. If we could arrange for her to be temporarily confined to the Sept of Baelor-”

“And she turns up pregnant, daughter or no, Lord Tywin will have no choice but to send the bitch packing back to Casterly Rock in disgrace! Prince Oberyn, pull this three card trick off, and I’ll show you why my husband broke his engagement to my sister to marry me after only one night.”


	9. Chapter 9

When Petyr Baelish and Tyrion Lannister and every man before them were Master of Coin it was a thankless one man job. Queen Cersei took over the position and completely renovated the office.

The dark drapes, single desk and three straight back wooden chairs were gone. Natural light flooded the room through the uncovered windows and French doors that lead to the terrace.

The scroll crates were stacked on their side along the wall like wine racks. The bookcases filled with account ledgers were organized, labeled and dusted. The floor and walls were freshly white washed.

A long table with a long bench ran the entire length of the room. A score of Silent Sisters in black homespun gowns with grey habits were seated at the table scribbling in ledgers and reading scrolls.

Queen Cersei lead Peter Baelish out onto the terrace where a Silent Sister was waiting to serve them. Her two guards took up positions on either side of the door inside the room.

There was a table set with a quill and ink pot made of gold, red wine in a crystal and silver serving set, soft cheese, sliced apples, olives and bread still steaming from the oven on a platter. 

The Silent Sister pulled out Queen Cersei’s chair for her and spread a napkin across her lap. Then held out a bowl of rose water for the Queen to wash her hands in. 

When she turned to pull out Peter Baelish’s chair, he waved her away.

“Silent Sisters as clerks?” Peter Baelish took a seat across the table from Queen Cersei on the terrace. “Novel idea.”

Peter Baelish had to admire the elegance of the solution. No one who followed the Faith of the Seven would ever dare cheat the Silent Sisters. To cross one Death’s Brides was considered very unlucky.

Doing a favor for a Silent Sister was considered very lucky. 

Which was why people lined up from Baelish’s former pillow house on silk street to the Sept of Baelor the Blessed to drink the Mountain’s water for a donation to the raped holy women of the Riverlands.

“They are remarkable effective tax collectors. No one wants to argue with the Strangers Wives about money. They are impeccably honest, and work very hard.”

Queen Cersei waited until the Silent Sister attending them had poured wine and filled plates with food for her and Peter then dismissed her.

The darkly dressed holy women bowed respectfully to the queen regent, then went back into the Master of Coin’s office closing the glass doors behind herself. 

“They work very very cheap.”

“That too. They’ve taken vows of poverty. Obedience. Chasity. Humility.”

“Vows of stupidity... They have nothing to call their own and are denied even the simple pleasures of life. They should call them nones.”

Queen Cersei settled comfortably in her chair as if she were on the Iron Throne she smiled at Peter faintly.

“Those of the fervent religious persuasion understand service is its own reward. Others would do well to follow their example.”

Queen Cersei was her beautiful mother Lady Joanna reborn, but she had her father’s eyes. Lord Tywin’s judging jade eyes watched Peter Baelish with the cool anticipation of a cat waiting for a foolish bird to come a little closer before pouncing. 

Peter Baelish was not a foolish bird. He raised his glass in toast. “To death and taxes.”

Queen Cersei smiled broadened. She raised her glass in a toast. “To death and taxes.”

The Queen drank deeply then went on. “Master Baelish, you would not believe the nasty slanderous lies being spread about you in court these days.”

“Oh?” Peter Baelish asked with the suggestion of a mild quizzical smile as if he had not a care in the world because he was pure and innocent as the Holy Maid. 

“What are the idle gossips whispering these days?”

“You and Jon Arryn attempted to bankrupt the realm with debt spending and embezzlement.”

“Ridiculous!” 

Jon Arryn had nothing what ever to do with Baelish’s plans. Lord Arryn suspected everybody but those closest to him. He should have suspected Sweet Robin’s true paternity when King Robert suggested sending the sickly boy to Winterfell, but he was too busy investigating the queen.

“I know! Of course I defended you and dear departed Jon. I said to my father: Jon was senile, and Peter would never bite the hand that has fed him so generously. Surely you must be mistaken.”

It was not what Queen Cersei said, but how she said it that struck a nerve. The sheer condescension and utter contempt in her tone: as if Peter were the lowest of her stupidest servants. Incapable of intentionally doing what he had in fact done quite deliberately. 

Peter Baelish was not a stupid bird, but by the time Queen Cersei stopped speaking he was rigid with rage and could not keep anger from bleeding into his voice. 

“Every expenditure, gift and debt was approved by Lord Jon and King Robert. In triplicate. I am not at fault for the lavish spending during King Robert’s reign.”

The Lannisters had executed, or tortured and exiled to the Wall most of Peter Baelish’s government appointees, but not all of them. 

There were enough former tax collectors still at large to spread rumors of the Cersei and Robert’s wastefulness and corruption far and wide. 

When the coming winter snows brought mass starvation and it became common knowledge how much gold was squandered on clothes, jewels, jousts and whores the uprising of overtaxed smallfolk and nobles would make the Bread Riot look like a feeble elderly lady having hysterics.

“Do not trouble yourself, Peter. I have audited the ledgers, spoken with the former tax, toll and levy collectors in the black cells and with our liaison with the Iron Bank.”

“Then you know I speak the truth!”

“The truth is Tyrion was right. It seems a lot of our financial difficulties stem from a simple book keeping error.”

Queen Cersei made an beckoning gesture and two of the white cloaked King’s Guard lead Master Noho Dimittis of the Iron Bank onto the terrace. The two white cloaks had their swords drawn ready to strike. Master Dimittis was pale, and clutching his satchel to his chest like a shield. 

“It seems large sums of royale money was deposited under Lord Arryn’s name into the Iron Bank of Braavos.”

“I did only as I was ordered,” Peter objected quickly. He started to rise, but one of the King’s Guard put a hand on his shoulder and forced him back down into his seat.

“My husband was careless and trusting I know. I know.” Queen Cersei waved it all away with hand. “It’s all just a misunderstanding.”

“King Robert -”

“I have explained to Master Dimittis there is no way in the seven hells Jon Arryn ever had millions in gold to deposit, but he insists. Bank rules won’t allow him to return the crown’s money without your written consent Peter since you are executor of Arryn’s estate and opened the accounts.”

Master Dimittis was so nervous he dropped his satchel twice trying to get the paperwork out of the bag. Dimittis slapped contract forms down hard enough to shake the table. Queen Cersei had to put her hand on top of Baelish’s wine goblet to keep it from tipping over.

“Careful Master Dimittis. You don’t want to have to rewrite all this paperwork again. I know how urgently you need to return to Braavos and report the success of your mission to your superiors at the Iron Bank. It’s not everyday you find millions of dragons. Peter sign the documents.“

There was a sudden silence. Queen Cersei had found the principle, but she had not found the interest the principle had earned. Peter still had feathers, and he was not a stupid bird. He just needed to get away from the queen with his head attached to his shoulders.

“Of course your grace,” Peter said hastily. “Anything to clear up this confusion.”

He dipped the quill in the ink and signed his name carefully at the bottom of each sheet of paper. He scanned over the documents reading as much as he could. Ten of the pages were standard transfer of asset forms. The last fifteen pages were full of blanks. 

He glanced up at Queen Cersei. She smiled at him like the cat that caught the canary. 

“Oh those are for the other banks. It occurred to me that there might be other accounts at other banks. Or even more accounts at the Iron Bank no one knows about. I’d hate to have you come all the way back to do this again. Thankfully Master Dimittis is recognized as a Intrabank Notary.”

“This is most irregular,” Master Dimittis muttered signing every document Peter had signed and affixing the Iron Bank’s seal to each before passing them to Queen Cersei for her to do the same. 

“Yes it is most irregular for a bank to help a servant to accidentally defraud their master. The shareholders should investigate. A bank like a lady can be ruined by a tarnished reputation.”

“The Iron Bank adheres to the strictest business ethics in our business! Every transaction is triple checked to ensure it is legitimate! We can not be held responsible for-”

“Taking putting millions into the wrong account for over a decade?” Lady Cersei tilted her head like a cat watching a human do something stupid for its amusement. “No one will ever believe Robert gave away a seventh of the tax revenue every year then took out loans to cover the shortfall.”

Even though that was excately what happened. Robert and Jon were fools who did not read what they signed after Peter had established himself as a humble, able servant of the court.

“Your husband, King Robert signed -”

“The Iron Bank called in all debts at the same time Peter is loaning out Arryn’s ill gotten gold to impoverished lords. You must admit gentlemen, to the casual observer it appears the Braavosi Bank conspired with the Braavosi Hand of the King to bankrupt the Iron Throne and the nobles.”

“I would never-” Peter protested. Queen Cersei was dangerously close to the truth, but in life as in horseshoes close was not good enough. 

“Of course you would not. That would be treason, and your loyalty to the Iron Throne is well known,” Queen Cersei said in mocking tones.

Queen Cersei looked from Baelish to Dimittis suggesting a Braavosi conspiracy to defraud the Iron Throne with a glance. No doubt the King’s Guard in attendance would spread the rumor far and wide.

What ever Queen Cersei knew or suspected, she still could not arrest Peter for his crimes. The evidence was irrefutable. Every transaction was perfectly legitimate and legal.

This was a mummer’s farce put on for the white cloaks to witness and repeat in the taverns and whorehouse they frequented. Everybody knew the royal body guards were the biggest gossips in Westeros.

The truth was while Queen Cersei was fucking Ser Jaime in dark corners like a milkmaid in love with a lusty hedge knight, King Robert and Lord Jon had busied themselves with everything but the realm’s finances.

It never occurred to people born into privilege to count their coins until they were all gone. Except for Tyrion Lannister. Cersei was taking the credit but Baelish knew it was the half man who had untangled the records.

Baelish sensed the dwarf was trouble when his whoremaster Olyvar said Tyrion had visited all Peter’s businesses in the city and carried away the records in mule carts full of scrolls and account books. Peter had taken precautions to protect himself before he journeyed to the Vale to marry.

The possibility of scandal made Master Dimittis looked up at Queen Cersei in alarm. The Iron Bank’s Keyholders were powerful, but the Sea Lord’s fleets of Merchant Princes were numerous and powerful.

If the Iron Bank’s activities adversely affected the merchant's ability to conduct business then there would be a power struggle and the Iron Bank would not win.

The merchant captains could relocated if they could not earn a living and call themselves Braavosi. The Iron Bank could not empty and relocate its vast vaults of gold without being robbed. The Iron Bank did not employ enough people to completely support the entire economy of Braavos. 

Like the nobility of Westeros depended on the complacency of the smallfolk the Iron Bank of Braavos was a flea living on dog’s blood.

“The Iron Bank prides itself -”

“The Iron Bank is barred from transacting any new business in the Seven Kingdoms for seven years. Ser Harys Swyft and Ser Gyles Rosby will accompany you back to Braavos and beyond to help settle the royal accounts. We would not want any more irregularities now would we?” 

“Of course not your grace,” Master Dimittis said packing up the signed documents, leaving the blank papers with Queen Cersei, and leaving with his armed escort. When the doors were closed again, Cersei poured herself another glass of wine.

“Now that the unpleasantness is over and done with, I will give you the opportunity to perform a service for me and earn your way back into my good graces.”

“What would you have me do your grace?” 

Things had not gone well for Peter Baelish, but Queen Cersei still did not know half of what she could have discovered. The game was not over and Peter still had plenty of pieces to play with. He was even safer than before because the Queen though she had actually scored a decisive victory. 

“Go escort Lady Sansa from the Riverlands to King’s Landing. I want her at court by Maiden’s Day.”

“You want me to snatch your brother’s wife? From his castle? Filled with his loyal bannermen? In the middle of his kingdom? Filled with his loyal smallfolk and lords?”

“I would never kidnap my brother’s wife.” She opened her eyes a little wider as if honestly bewildered that Peter Baelish would suggest such a thing.

“I am inviting Lady Sansa to keep Magreay company during her confinement in the Maiden Vault. They're such good friends, I’m sure they will be very happy together in there.”

“I know what you Lannisters lack in filial devotion you more than make up for in tactical prowess, but abducting Lady Sansa while Lord Tyrion is fighting the Krakens is ill advised your grace.”

“Tyrion thinks he’s clever, but I can see what he is building up to! I will burn his house down before the foundation is laid!”

Peter Baelish had never met a family as functionally fucked up as the Lannisters. From father Tywin to little Tommen every Lannister Baelish had ever known was molested, not touched, by madness.

Queen Cersei’s cup of crazy was filled with bubbling paranoia.

“Can you really discern his grand plan?” Baelish asked. 

Baelish was a life long schemer. In his professional opinion, Lord Tyrion operated like a man standing on the backs of two running stallions at once.

What looked amazing to the crowds was really a terrified man seconds from being trampled to death. Lady Sansa on the other hand, was a beautiful predator learning to use her claws.

When the Stark-Lannisters visited the Vale of Arryn, how Lady Stark-Lannister had skillfully manipulated her aunt Lady Lysa into bartering the Vale’s islands for the Hill Tribe exodus had given Petyr a erection.

“Pray enlighten me my queen. I confess myself baffled by Lord Tyrion’s actions to date.”

“It’s obvious. He bought the North’s loyalty by not killing the Starks. He bought the Riverlord’s loyalty by pardoning them for aligning with the Starks. He bought the Hill Tribes with homes in the Riverlands-”

“You think Lord Tyrion will charm the Iron Born to his cause? How? What incentive could Lord Tyrion possibly offer that your late husband and Ned Stark did not?”

“You don’t know him as I do. Tyrion could talk the Blessed Maiden into his bed,” Queen Cersei said with grudging admiration. I shudder to think what perverse tricks he has taught Sansa in two years.”

Peter Baelish ran one of Tyrion Lannister’s favorite whore houses. Peter knew precisely the sexual favors Tyrion enjoyed giving and receiving. If Sansa had mastered the skills to please her husband-

Peter Baelish crossed his legs casually to hide his erection from Queen Cersei. He was no longer a youth, excited by every still breeze and stray thought, but Sansa Stark set his blood on fire.

“Need I remind your grace the Krakens are famous oath breakers? The only sins in their religion are kinslaying, and cowardice; and if your kin is a coward it is considered a blessing to kill them.”

“He could offer them gold.”

“From where? The Riverlands were just ravished by war. The North has always been land rich and gold poor. Your father would just as soon spit on Lord Tyrion as give him a fortune to buy off the Krakens.”

“All of us! With the Iron Born’s reavers, the Hill Tribe raiders, the remnants of the Riverlords and the full Northern amry at his back how hard would it be for Tyrion to over run the rest of Westeros?”

“Considering Lord Tyrion would have to hold his army of savages together long enough to defeat the Golden Horde of the West and the Thorns of the Reach, I would say extremely not easy.”

“It was extremely not easy to over throw 300 years of Targaryen rule, yet I am the wife of the man who did it.”

“Suppose you are wrong, my queen. Suppose Lord Tryion is innocent? Wouldn’t kidnapping his beautiful young wife strongly suggest to Lord Tyrion he should rebel against the Iron Thron?”

Cersei seemed to be working down a list of dumbest things a queen regent could do.

King Robert’s rebellion was sparked by the royal abduction of a noble born young women.

The war of the Nine Penny Kings was sparked by bastards seeking the Iron Throne.

Lord Tywin would have done the Seven Kingdoms an immense favor if he had taken the time to teach his only daughter history repeats itself if provoked.

“I am comfortable with taking that chance.”

“I am not,” Baelish said bluntly. “The Vale of Arryn has no quarrel with the North Rivers of Stark-Lannister.”

He had not forgotten Queen Cersei’s little ‘power is power’ speech. It was time Cersei realized Baelish was no longer the crown’s book keeper and most handy cat’s paw.

“You crept into the Stark war camp to make a deal for Jamie's release for Tyrion. You arranged my son’s marriage in High Garden, for my father. Yet you would dare deny your queen’s request?!”

“Forgive me your grace. I am not a knight. I never learned to ride boldly to my death on a fool’s errand. Excuse me, that’s not fair. The Freys exiled to the Wall and Roose Bolton is imprisoned at Riverrun.”

“Rescue them or leave them to rot for their incompetence my father can do what he will with his own men. I am ordering you to the bring me Lady Sansa. Alive and unharmed.”

“Unless your father, the Hand of the King supplies me with gold and an army to lay seige to Castle Riverrun, the answer is no.” 

Lord Tywin did not have the gold to wage another war so soon, and thanks to King Joffrey’s efforts at slave trading the Golden Horde was demoralised.

“Use your own army or have the knights of the Vale become cowards.”

“The knights of the Vale serve Lord Robin, Warden of the East. Lord Robin would not be served by attacking his cousin Lady Sansa.”

“Then do it without an army. Lure her into the forest with a trail of lemon cakes for all I care, but get that girl to King’s Landing!”

“Or what?” It was time to find out what weapons Cersei had against him. She was arrogant in her supposed triumph, not even suspecting just how truly deep the grave Peter Baelish had dug for her over the course of a decade was.

“If you don’t bring me Sansa within the month then people who witnessed you betray Ned in the throne room will start making their way to Castle Riverrun. When Sansa demands your head with her husband's army of savages at her back how long will your loving Lady Lysa deny her?”


	10. Chapter 10

Ser Jaime woke later than he intended the next day. It was mid morning when the light slicing through a crack  in the curtain moved across his face warm and ticklish as a cat's tail.

 

With a groan the Lord Commander of the King’s Guard rolled off his bed. It was a narrow trundle bed on wheels. One of two narrow straw filled coffins that fit neatly beneath Prince Tommen’s spacious bed with feather mattress.

 

The valet who slept in the other box the night before, and the other valet who had slept on the hearth rug were both awake. They sat side by side near the slightly parted curtains polishing Ser Jaime's armour with sand.

 

“By the Crone’s wrinkled tits!” Ser Jaime groaned. He stretched his arm above his head and twisted his back to ease the stiffness. “I’d have done better sleeping on the floor! You there - Bobert-”

 

“Bosco is my name, if it please your grace.”

 

“Bosco have the Steward of Riverrun arrange a separate room for me.  With a proper bed.”

 

“Begging your pardon Ser Lannister, but we made that inquiry yesterday."

 

"And?”

 

“The steward said the house is full to the rafters. There is no room fit for you to be had. Besides this arrangement with the hide away beds was for Prince Tommen’s safety. You are to sleep here and no place else.”

 

“She also said not to embarrass you again by seeking luxuries  for ourselves by claiming they are meant for you Ser Lannister or she’d have our ears boxed to bleeding for impudence.”

 

“What is the steward’s name?”

 

“Lady Jeyne Bolton. Not to be confused with Mistress Jeyne Westerling."

 

"She was at the high table last night. The women with straight brown hair with the wolf pin on her grey dress.”

 

“I know of whom you speak.”

 

“She is Lady Sansa's right hand they say. We dared not go over her authority.  It's not our place.”

 

“Decent accommodation is not a luxury. I will speak to Lady Bolton.”

 

Ser Jaime stripped off his clothes and dropped them on the floor. Naked, he stood before the fireplace and washed himself from hair to toes with the warm water in the copper bucket, soap and rag laid out there.

 

The day before he and Prince Tom men made a bad first impression when they sat down to dinner with Tyrion’s court stinking of horse and sweat. Ser Lannister would not repeat that mistake.

 

He dressed in fresh shirt under a dark red jerkin and pants in the style his father Tywin and brother Tyrion preferred. He combed his wet hair neat and buckled on his golden hand. While Ser Jaime was stamping into his boots Prince Tommen began to stir in bed.

 

“I’m hungry,” the young royal said yawning. Prince Tommen sat up, sung his pale skinny legs to dangle over the side of his bed and scratched his pudgy belly with both hands.

 

“I dreamt of bacon and honey buns with lemon curd. I want that for breakfast.”

 

“I’m sorry your grace. There is no food here.”

 

“Go to the kitchen and get it,” Prince Tommen ordered.

 

“I’m sorry. We can’t do that your grace.”

 

“I’m not in the Red Keep. I don't have to follow stupid Pycelle’s meal plan. I’ll eat what I want!”

 

“Your grace there is no food. I can not give you what can’t be had.”

 

“I, I don’t understand -”

 

“What do you mean there is no food?” Jaime demanded.

 

“Lady Sansa is a religious women. She keeps the Sabbath of the Stranger every week.”

 

“Yes. I’ve heard all about my good sister’s piety. What about food?”

 

“Half the servants and soldiers have today off to rest or visit kin as they choose. The other half are cleaning. I have gone to the kitchens. There is naught but soapy water in the pots and pans.”

 

Prince Tommen began to cry. “But I'm hungry. I want some bacon  -”

 

“Go to the larder - get the prince cured meat, cheese and fruit.”

 

“I don't want fruit and cured meat! I want bacon!”

 

“The larder is locked Ser Jaime. Lady Bolten has the key. We dare not seek her out.”

 

“You’re my servants! You have to do as I say! Mother said -”

 

“Damn you both for cowards!” Ser Jaime swore angrily. “See the Prince is properly bathed and dressed. I will find some food!”

 

Ser Jaime slammed the door on Prince Tommen’s escalating tantrum. In the hallway four of the bannermen the Lord Commander of the King’s Guard had brought from King's Landing were standing guard.

 

One armed knight stood on either side of the door. One armed knight stood on either end of the hallway. Prince Tommen’s high childish voice was muffled by the closed door but still audible.

 

Ser Jaime could feel the Lannister bannermen silent judgement and disapproval as he hurried from Prince Tommen’s rooms in search of food and answers.

 

Lord Tywin would never have allowed such childish behavior. Prince Tommen’s acting shamefully unmanly.

 

Ser Jaime wandered the deserted corridors for half an hour before he found a gang of six char women sweeping and mopping their way down the tower steps.

 

“One of you show me the way to Lady Sansa’s chambers.”

 

The women were silent for a long moment looking at Sir Jaime with unveiled suspicion and scorn. Finally one of the eldest of their number, a grey haired women in the grey dyed homespun with black apron that was their uniform spoke up. 

 

“If it please you Ser Lannister l’ll show the way,” the old mother said drying her hands on her apron. “But the Lady Sansa ain't home and won't be home till after noon day.”

 

“Where has she gone to?”

 

“She goes to the Sept in Laketon one week, Rivendel the next. She walks with the town council to see how the latest doings to fix up the city is coming along. After that she visits with her wards.”

 

“Who are her wards?”

 

Suddenly the servants were eager to talk to Sir Lannister. 

 

“The war bastards and orphans.  172 children last I heard. Lady Sansa pays for the children's care. Gods know where my lady finds the time, but she sews their wee clothes with her own noble hands. "

 

"My lady visits them every week."

 

"She plays her golden harp and sings to them."

 

"She kicks the pig gut ball and plays games with them."

 

"She'll make a fine mother of strong sons when her time comes. Mark my words."

 

"Gods fearing women of charity. That’s what she is.”

 

“Others would do well to follow her example.”

 

It seems Lady Sansa could give Lady Margaery lessons on winning over the smallfolk Sir Jaime thought ruefully.

 

“Where is Lady Bolton?”

 

“With Lady Sansa, they is always together Sir Jaime. Closer to sister them two.”

 

“Where is Lady Genna?”

 

“I couldn’t say Ser Lannister. She’s not set in her ways like Lady Sansa. Lady Frey comes and goes as she pleases like the breeze.”

 

“Where are her rooms?”

 

“Back the way you've come Sir Lannister," said the grey haired old mother. "Across from Prince Tommen’s.”

 

You idiot, was strongly implied by her tone.

 

Ser Lannister resisted the urge to belt her across the mouth. Committing an act of violence on the old woman would  relieve some of his mounting frustration, but not help his family's reputation.

 

The night before Lady Genna had said her ladies in waiting hid food in their sewing baskets. With no other option for an immediate remedy to Prince Tommen’s hunger Ser Lannister retraced his steps.

 

Captain Gerion Lannister’s illegitimate daughter Joyous Hill opened the door when Ser Jaime knocked upon the door across the hall from Prince Tommen Baratheon’s room.

 

“Cousin Jaime!” Joy flung her arms around Ser Jaime’s neck and hugged him eagerly.

 

Sir Jaime hugged her back with equal enthusiasm and swung her around.

 

“Jo-jo!” Ser Jaime kissed her forehead affectionately. He set Joy on her feet. “Look how tall you are!”

 

“You’re supposed to say look how pretty you are!” she said playfully.

 

Joyous Hill was literally the dark sheep of the Lannister family. She was a darling girl of 19. She had a  mop of messy short black curls, sun kissed skin and eyes the colour of lavender flowers.

 

“We all know you’re beautiful Jo-Jo; that’s why you were locked up in the convent remember?”

 

Joy crossed her arms and turned her back on Jaime. “I get caught kissing one knight and I’m labeled a loose women. Tyrion has whores running up and down the servant’s stairs like squirrels on a tree trunk and no one bats an eye. It’s not fair.”

 

“Don’t be like that Joy.” Sir Jaime turned his cousin around and gently lead her over to the low back wooden pew beneath windows. Joy dropped herself gracelessly upon the cushions, Jaime sat beside her.

 

Jaime put an arm around Joy’s shoulders pulling her stiff body into his side. Eventually Joy relaxed against Jaime, and lay her head on his shoulder. “I missed you and Tyrion. So much. It’s lonesome at the Rock without my favorite cousins.”

 

“I missed you too.”

 

“I couldn’t tell. Tyrion wrote me every week. You didn’t write but once.”

 

“I’m sorry Joy. I didn’t mean to. I was busy keeping people from murdering Cersei. Then I was a unwilling guest of the Stark’s questionable hospitality.”

 

“I’ll forgive you, but you had better get me a really good present.” Joy punched Jaime’s side and he laughed.

 

Joy was no more Captain Gerion’s daughter than Joffrey was King Robert’s son. Sir Jaime felt that his father Tywin had just cause to drown his Aunt Briony for her infidelity. However Sir Jaime also believed it would have been wiser to show mercy.

 

Killing Briony while Captain Gerion sailed his personal fleet with Stannis Baratheon to avenge the Iron Born’s burning Tywin’s armada to the water line had created a rift between them. After Uncle Tygett sided with Uncle Gerion, and the Lannister brotherhood was permanently divided.

  

“Why were you not at dinner last night?”

 

“I begged off. It is my time of the month. I don’t want to leave my room.”

 

“Did you ask the Maester for a headache powder?” Sir Jaime knew enough about the female complaint to know it was messy, uncomfortable, and best endured with the assistance of medicine.

 

His sister Cersei took to her bed for four straight days, and could not be disturbed with out dire consequences during her time.

 

“I’m perfectly fine,” Joy said dismissively.

 

She sat up, pulling away from Jaime. He let her go. Joy hated any suggestion that she was weak; a side effect of being raised at Casterly Rock. Cersei and Genna were the same way. “I just didn’t want to have an accident and embarrass myself.”

 

“Father did not mention you would be here. When did you arrive?” Jaime asked changing the subject.

 

“Two days ago. Aunt Genna was furious. We are sharing these rooms so her ladies can watch my every move and she can fuss at me,” Joyous said rolling her eyes. "Aunt Genna is such a tribulation, we should be elected to the Most Devout for putting up with her."

 

“You know Aunt Genna means well...I’m surprised you did not come sooner. Didn't Tyrion invite you?”

 

“Aunt Genna wouldn’t allow it. She said it wasn't safe for me to come when she initially left the Casterly Rock to come here months ago. Aunt Dorna said I could come if Tyrion would still allow it.”

 

“Tyrion said yes because he gives you anything ask for.”

 

“Why shouldn't he spoil me? He is my godfather and I am a poor orphan without friend or fortune-”

 

“You are a savage little nonsense without shame or good sense. Where is Aunt Genna now?” Jaime asked looking around.

 

Two hand maids Ser Lannister vaguely recognized the daughters of some poor lord was folding a pile of clean clothes and packing them into a three open travel trunks. He suspected they were listening to their conversation, but since they reported to Genna, Sir Jaime was not concerned.

 

“Gone to Harrenhal to meet with a master mason. Tyrion is having it torn down and rebuilt for her wedding.”

 

“He can’t afford that! It will cost a fortune!”

 

“Not after he smashes the Iron fleet and takes the Krakens captive. With thousands of thralls at his beck and call Tyrion could build two dozen castles and a road from here to the Wall of the North before the first snows of winter.”

 

“Joy, need I remind you slavery is illegal in Westeros?”

 

“Oh I know, but maybe you should have mentioned that to Joffrey before you left King’s Landing,” Joy sniggered gleefully.

 

“What are you referring to?”

 

“Haven’t you heard? Joffrey gave slave snatchers a royal writ to hunt at his wedding revel. They abducted a bunch of people including the children of Western in town for the wedding.”

 

“Where did you hear that?”

 

“From my wine wholesaler in Lannisport, he deals with a trader who sails to Storm’s End every month and has a sister living on Dragonstone. I did not believe it until Most Holy Ona confirmed it.”

 

“Who is Holy Ona?”

 

“Abbess Ona runs the convent on Fair Isle where Uncle Tywin locked me up after father died even though he knows father wanted me and Tyrion to be Braavosi sea lords. I mentioned her in my letters.”

 

“No one in their right mind would let a couple of half grown grief stricken children run off to the east chasing a dead man’s pipe dream!”

 

“Why not? You’ve let a half grown child become king. At least I wouldn't become a slaver and shame the family name.”

 

“Joffrey is not a slaver!”

 

“The two hundred and thirteen people Lord Hightower found in the cargo hold of those ships say otherwise.”

 

“What ships?”

 

“The ships they stopped off Dragonstone! There was three of them. Aren’t you listening?”

 

“Go on with your tale. You spoke with Abbess Ona? In Lannisport? What does she know of this?”

 

“I was at the docks to meet a take deliver of a shipment of silk worms Tyrion plans to raise here. Ona was boarding a ship bound for King’s Landing. The High Septon has ordered all 77 of the Most Devout to convene an Ecclesiastical Court to try Joffrey’s alleged sins.”

 

“FIRST of all the High Septon doesn't have the legal authority to try the king. Secondly even if the High Septon could put Joffrey on trail, father won't let it happen.”

 

“Perhaps if you spent more time listening to your law tutor and less time playing with swords you would know ONLY the Ecclesiastical Court can judge the king, queen and their kids. Aunt Genna says the trial must go forward to appease the Western lords or they will rebel against uncle Tywin. If convicted, the High Septon withdraws his blessing, and Joffrey will have to abdicate.”

 

“They wouldn’t dare. All father has to do is play the Reynes of Castamere a dozen times to cow them!”

 

“You haven’t been home since the war ended. When Tyrion expelled the army from the Riverlands he paid off the bannermen but not their commanders. The Lords of the Golden Horde still have not been paid. They are in a black mood. Aunt Dorna can’t handle them like Aunt Genna can. ”

 

“Then Aunt Genna should go home and take charge of the situation. Uncle Kevan is still needed in the capital.”

 

“I said as much when I arrived. First Aunt Genna said she could not leave until you arrived to take her place. This morning she rode off to Harrenhal instead of Casterly Rock and I don’t know what Aunt Dorna will do. She was counting on Aunt Genna coming home soon.”

 

“Don’t worry. Leave it to me Joy. After I’ve presented Sansa with her wedding gift from me I’ll have a word with Aunt Genna and sort her out.”

 

oOo

 

After finally getting Prince Tommen calmed down, fed, bathed, dressed and out of their room, Sir Jaime took the young Baratheon prince to the stables where he met Lady Sansa, her ladies, and an escort of fifteen knights just returning from Laketon.

 

Sir Jaime knew he should have waited until they were all in a private solar, but he was impatient to ride after Lady Genna. Sir Jaime needed to redirect his aunt to Casterly Rock before his father found out he was the reason Lady Genna had picked an opportune time to be uncooperative.

 

Sir Jaime’s campaign to lure Lady Sansa into his bed started with a cat.

 

Sir Jaime Lannister presented the feline to Lady Sansa  proudly. It was the size of a small dog, with a golden ribbon around its neck and lay napping like a drunk sprawled upon a cloth of gold pillow inside a red painted wicker basket.

 

Prince Tommen stood beside Sir Jaime grinning happily, “For you Aunt Sansa!”

 

Lady Sansa Stark-Lannister made no move to touch the cat. Starks were dog people. They had direwolves on their sigil. Sansa stared at the sleeping cat. Sansa stared at Sir Jaime’s confident smile.

 

Lady Sansa looked to Lady Jeyne Bolton who shrugged. “It is a cat, my lady.”

 

“A green cat,” Arya said. She tilted her head and squinted. “It looks like a miniature tiger. Nice.”

 

“I see…” Lady Sansa could see it was indeed a green cat.

 

Sansa did not see why she was being presented with a green cat when house Lannister’s colours were red and gold. When Tyrion gave her pets, they were Stark silver and white.

 

“It’s...lovely. Very green. Thank you?”

 

“Is it supposed to be green?” Mistress Arya asked. “When I’m green I’m sick.”

 

“Green is the most unusual color in cats,” Prince Tommen said proudly.

 

“Really? Isn’t that interesting. Will it turn white in the winter?”

 

“Cats don’t change colours and green cats don’t change their stripes,” Tommen told Sansa.

 

“As many cats as there are at the Red Keep don’t tell me you never had one yourself?” Sir Jaime asked in disbelief.

 

Usually people gave Lady Sansa special animals or animals parts they meant for her to eat them: fatted calves, fish eggs, suckling pigs, swan's livers, peacocks, smoked eels, pickled quail eggs - Sansa hoped Ser Jaime was not suggesting she eat the cat.

 

“I do not think we have any wine in the cellar to pair with that,” Lady Sansa said trying to diplomatically discourage putting green cat on her dinner menu.

 

“What?!” Ser Jaime said.

 

“I’m sorry larger?” Lady Sansa tried to quickly correct. “We have no larger on tap. My Lord Tyrion does not drink beer of any kind.”

 

Lady Caitlyn taught Lady Sansa which wine to serve with beef, pork, fish, fowl and venison.

 

Lady Stark Lannister learned from the Hill Tribe women horse and mountain  goat meat should be eaten with ale; squirrel, vole and rabbits with larger. She assumed cat meat tasted like vole.

 

Prince Tom men laughed. “Silly Sansa cats drink milk! Not beer.Don’t they have cats in the North?”

 

“Who needs cats when your dog can pull a snow sled and kill rats in the barn?” Mistress Arya asked. 

 

“Tear out an intruder’s throat, keep your feet warm at night and fetch help if your child falls off a tower or down a well?” Lady Bolton added.

 

“Can a cat do any of that?” Mistress Arya asked in challenge.

 

“No, but they purr. Dogs can’t do that,” Prince Tommen said.

 

“In the West we give cats to women when they marry. Rare cats are very desirable gifts. There is no breed rarer than the striped green Vale Mountain cat,” Ser Jaime explained stiffly affronted by the ignorance of the Northern women.

 

Dogs were dirty ass sniffing, shit eaters. Cats were better. Everyone knew that. Except Northerners. Backward goat fucking hairy savages.

 

It had never occurred to Sir Jaime Lady Sansa would not want a cat. Every women in the West wanted cats! Every other women in Westeros copied what Western women did. Cereal had received thirty cats on her wedding day. Her most rare cat was a Western flame point, blue paw.

 

Queen Cersei had objected to Prince Tommen getting Ser Pounce partially because a cat was a traditional gift for a women but mostly because she wanted the exotic green striped animal for herself.

 

“Cats figuratively chase misfortune from the home and literally kill disease spreading vermin before they spoil food,” Sir Jaime said. “ You would not let a dog in your kitchen but cats are clean animals.”

 

“They bathe in their own spit!” Arya objected.

 

“Maester Pycelle said green cats and the families who own them can’t be poisoned because they eat snake, spiders, and scorpions. They are sleep guardians too. They hunt nightmares,” Prince Tommen said.

 

Lady Jeyne Bolton exchange a speaking look with Lady Sansa Stark-Lannister.

 

“Give me my cat,” Lady Sansa said reaching for the animal.

 

During the transfer from Sir Jaime’s pillow to Lady Sanaa’s arms the cat woke up. It twisted to lay on her shoulder like a baby.  The cat sniffed Sansa’s her face tickling her cheek with its whiskers.

 

“Mraow?”

 

The cat and Sansa looked into each other's eyes intently.

 

“I have two wolves, a husband and now you...It won’t be crowded at all. This is a castle. We don’t have a rat problem, but their are squirrels in the walnut trees and sparrows roosting in the stable. Don’t scratch my tapestries or wood work.”

 

The cat purred and began rubbing the top of its head beneath Sansa’s chin. “I am glad that meets with your approval. You can sleep with me, and the Jeynes. Our husbands are off at war.”

 

Mistress Jeyne reached out to scratch the cat’s back.

 

“No house is considered lucky without a cat. My mother has four cats...one is a Dornish red ring tail,” Lady Jeyne bragged shyly. “I hope I get a red kitten when I marry Sir Payne.”

 

“You must be so proud,” Lady Bolton said. “Four cats. One of them, a red ring tail. My, my your mother is one lucky women.”

 

“She is!” Mistress Jeyne said brightly completely missing Lady Bolton’s sarcasm. “My father had to send all the way to the Water Garden for Rudy -”

 

“She named a red cat Rudy?” Mistress Arya asked incredulously. “How original.”

 

“Jon named a white wolf Ghost, your sword is called needle, and I named father’s war horse Snowflake,” Lady Sansa whispered. “We live in a crystal castle don’t throw stones Ari.”

 

“-was not sure Rudy would arrive by their wedding day but as luck would have it -”

 

“If a cat is a traditional Western wedding gift, why are you giving Sansa a cat almost three years late?” Mistress Arya asked Jaime interrupting Jeyne. “Didn’t you go to her wedding feast?”

 

“Of course I went to my brother's wedding -”

 

“Then what or rather who were you doing that distracted you from giving Lady Sansa your precious pussy?” Lady Bolton asked archly.

 

“You should have given Sansa your pussy on her wedding day!” Mistress Arya chimed in mischievously. “Don't you know it’s bad luck to wait?”

 

“What?!”

 

“In the North we don’t give wedding gifts to people after they are married,” Lady Sansa said apologetically. “Perhaps your Aunt Genna would like a cat?”

 

“We can’t give Boots to Aunt Genna!” Tommen protested. “What will Uncle Tyrion say?”

 

“Why would Tyrion care?” Sir Jaime asked exasperated.

 

“Boots is Uncle Tyrion’s cat!” Prince Tommen said indignantly. "You can't give Boots to just anybody! It has to be Aunt Sansa, she is Uncle Tyrion's wife!"

 

“What?! No! I got this cat from -” Cersei damn it! The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, practical jokes and pranks.

 

“There are only three green striped Vale Mountain cats in the seven kingdoms. Uncle Tyrion got them all from the Hill Tribes when they fought with grandfather. He gave me Sir Pounce. He gave Myrcella Lady Whiskers. Uncle Tyrion asked me to take care of Boots for him, but it’s still his cat.”

 

“What?!”

 

“You say that a lot Sir Jaime. Maybe you should go away and come back when you know what’s going on,” Mistress Arya suggested helpfully.

 

“Don’t be rude Arya. I am sure Sir Jaime meant to give Lady Sansa his own pussy, not Lord Tyrion’s pussy,” Lady Bolton said sweetly. “Is your pussy green like this one Sir Jaime? I would love to see it!”

 

“Sir Jaime how could you not tell this was Tyrion’s pussy and not yours? All pussies do not look the same you know,” Mistress Arya chided gleefully. “Haven’t you seen enough pussies in your life to tell them apart?”

 

“We shave the wolves in the summer to stop them from shedding. Sir Jaime do you shave your cat when it gets hot in the summer?” Lady Sansa asked stroking the back of her new pet absentmindedly.

 

“Don't say that!” Jaime exploded red faced. All of Lady Sansa's knights had turned away to hid their laughter. A few of them were leaning on each other shaking.

 

“Don't say what?” Mistress Westerling asked innocently. "Summer?"

 

“Pussy!”

 

“Doesn’t every woman in the West get one for her wedding?” Lady Sansa asked confused, she looked to Mistress Westerling for confirmation. “I thought that was your custom?”

 

“It is -” Mistress Jeyne Westerling confirmed.

 

“A lady should not use that kind of language!”

 

“What is wrong with saying pussy?” Prince Tommen asked. “I've got a green one too.”

 

“Pussy, cunt, snatch, twat  - they are all vulgar words for a woman's private parts! Don’t say it again!”

 

“Private parts?” Mistress Westerling shared a puzzled look with Lady Sansa.

 

Then Sansa brightened as a thought occurred to her. “Ooh you mean vagina. Lord Tyrion told us all about penis and vigina."

 

"Lord Tyrion did not mention vaginas had other names. Why do they have other names? Arms don't have other names. Neither do knees -" Mistress Jeyne said.

 

"Never mind why Jeyne, they do, and now we know about it. Thank you for telling us Sir Jaime," She said seriously. "We will not repeat those inappropriate -”

 

“What a damn minute,” Mistress Arya said holding up a hand.

 

“Arya don’t swear!” Lady Sansa said reflexively.

 

“I think the situation calls for swearing when your prim and proper sister mentions oh so casually she talks about sex with her husband and her handmaid. At the same damn time!”

 

“Wish I’d been a fly on the wall,” Lady Bolton said smirking.

 

“Who else was going to explain sex to Jeyne?” Lady Sansa asked defensively. “Her mother is not here. All our mother taught us was wait for your wedding night. Your husband will show you what to do.”

 

“Did Uncle Tyrion draw pictures for you?”

 

Everyone turned to look at Prince Tommen.

 

“Uncle Tyrion drew pictures when he told Myrcella and I about penis, vagina and how babies are made!”

 

“Tyrion should not have done that!” Sir Jaime said angrily. “It’s not his place to tell you things like that.”

 

“No one else answers our questions.” Prince Tommen said honestly. “My father and Uncle Renly are dead. Uncle Stannis and Joffrey hate me. Mother, grandfather, and uncle Kevan are to busy.”

 

“You could have asked me!”

 

“Why would we ask you about sex, Uncle Jaime? You are a knight of the King’s Guard. You don’t have sex.”

 

oOo

 

Excerpt of letter from Lady Sansa to Lord Tyrion -

 

 

__-_ Try to imagine how awkward the ensuing silence was. Most uncomfortable for all involved, except Arya. She  laughed out loud until she wet herself. I despair of ever teaching my sister lady like decorum… _

_-worried that Sir Jaime was not  discouraged from seeking me out after the embarrassing cat fiasco. I have doubled my personal guard. I suspect he is trying to steal the castle keys to rob our treasure vaults. He keeps reaching out, trying to touch me…_

_-renamed the cat Bastet. She really does cure nightmares. Jeyne B and I are sleeping like logs. Unfortunately she is meaner than a direwolf. Grey Wind and Nymeria are scared of her. She grooms them like they are her kittens. Arya thinks it’s funny. Robb is really mad..._

_-Tommen is still a sweet boy. When Jaime is busy, he follows Uncle Brynden about like a duckling. I am pleased to report he is losing weight and gaining confidence. Arya still beats him up, and steals his money, but she doesn't let the squires and paiges pick on him…_

_-Having clothes and armor made for Lady Brienne. She could be pretty if dressed properly. She could certainly fight even better if she had custom plate and mail. We have the valyrian steel, do you mind if I have a sword made for her? Arya looks up to her so much..._

_-Regarding the wine rationing you mentioned in your last letter: I gave strict instructions to my minions regarding you daily maintenance that will be followed to the letter no matter how many fits you pitch. I sent you forth in good health. I expect you to return to me in the same condition or there shall be a reckoning between us my lord husband._

_-Your loving wife, Lady Sansa Stark Lannister. Wardness of the North, Consort of the Trident.  
_

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

It was Measter Kym had taught Catelyn, Lyssa and Edmure their lessons as children. The old man had all but retired when he was given the task of educating Mistress Arya Stark, and later Prince Tommen Baratheon while his younger replacement, Maester Vymen advised Lady Stark Lannister.

Unfortunately Maester Kym was too old to break his habit of sliding quietly into a sound sleep after a heavy meal just because he was tasked with educating Arya and Tommen.

While old Measter Kym was slumped forward in his armchair, napping peacefully at his desk Prince Tommen and Mistress Arya Stark inched their way down the thick rope hanging out of the tower window. 

“Why do we have to climb out the window every morning? Why can’t we use the stairs? It’s not a secret we train with the squires and Ser Brynden. Look. My guard is waiting by the cherry orchard to escort us to the practice yard. As usual.”

“First of all it’s good practice.”

“When am I ever going to need to climb up and down a tower on a rope again?”

Remembering Arya’s warning take climb carefully, Tommen took his time to moving with unhurried care. He tried not to think of Brandon Stark, a boy his own age, crippled for life after falling off a tower wall.

“Tomorrow morning."

"Alright. Give me another reason, a BETTER reason." Prince Tommen’s arms and shoulders ached with the strain of supporting his weight has he lowered himself hand over hand to the ground. 

"Don't you want to swing King Robert's war hammer someday? This builds up strength in the arms. My father said that’s how your father got so strong: climbing up and down the Eyrie in the Vale of Arryn to slip into the kitchen maid’s sleeping chamber for a midnight snack,” Arya said wickedly.

“I never knew that!”

“You probably never asked did you? I bet you thought your father was BORN big as a moose-yak.”

“I’m not stupid Arya! I know my father was a boy before he became a man. It is just hard for me to imagine. Father was always like the skull of Balerion the black dragon in the cellars: to big to be real. When he died it took ten men to carry his coffin.”

“I know what you mean. Uncle Benjen has told me father was a carefree youth. I never believed him til King Robert came to visit. One night I crept down to the great hall - there was my father singing tavern songs, cracking dirty jokes. I’d never seen him laugh like that before. It made me mad and sort of sad at the same time. He was never like that with us.”

Arya did not cling to the rope with desperation as Tommen did. She moved like a squirrel down the line, her descent only impeded by Tommen’s slower pace. Occasionally her dress’ hem brushed Tommen’s head and he could not help glancing up.

“Eyes to the ground!” Mistress Arya snapped as the hem of her skirts brushed Prince Tommen’s upturned face.

Prince Tommen quickly dropped his gaze from the curtains of Mistress Arya’s skirts that flashed tantalizing glimpses of long pale legs as she moved to the vine covered tower wall all in front of his face.

“I wasn’t looking,” Prince Tommen lied.

“Look up my dress again and I’ll kick you in the head!” Arya warned.

“You can’t kick me - I’m crown prince of the seven kingdoms! My brother’s the king!”

“So what? The land is crawling with self proclaimed kings and roaches! Robb claimed to be king of the North. Old Greyjoy says he’s king of the Krakens. Both your uncles and the beggar Targaryen prince in the east claim to be king of Westeros.”

“Joffrey is the one true king! He was blessed by the Holy Septon to sit on the Iron Throne. He rules over the whole seven kingdoms! He even has a wife - a queen!”

“Your brother’s brat with a bedtime. Same as you. Same a me. Only difference is, he’s got a fancy hat. Your mother and grandfather rule the realm not Joffrey.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I just came from King’s Landing not -”

“I know Lord Tywin and Queen Cersei locked Joffrey in the Sept of Baelor and Margaret in the Maidenvault.”

“They did not.”

“They did, and nobody wants to tell you cause they think you’ll cry about it like Sansa.”

“No I wouldn’t cry!”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“NO! Besides that’s a lie! They can’t do that!”

“They have done it, so obviously they can do it. What do you care? You told me Joffrey was cruel to you and Myrcella. Aren’t you glad Joffrey can’t beat you up any time he likes any more?” 

“Yes, but it’s not right for the Hand of the King and the Queen Regent - his own mother and grandfather - to lock up the king and his queen! That has to be against the law.”

“Around here might makes right, and the rules only apply to the losing side. So pray you are never on the losing side cause a lot of people hate your family.”

“People like you?”

When Tommen’s feet touched the ground he was quick to scrabble out of Arya’s way. She dropped the last ten feet to the ground, landing in a low crouch like a cat the rose to her feet.

Mistress Arya spent minutes hiding the rope among the vines on the side of the tower. When she finished Tom men could not see it hidden in the thick ivy leaves. When she finished she turned to Tom men and spoke frankly.

“I like you Tommen. We spilt blood with the same dagger over flames that burned our hair, so we’ll be friends for life like my father and your father before us.”

“Your secrets are my secrets. My secrets are your secrets. Your enemies are my enemies, and my enemies are your enemies,” Tommen said seriously repeating part of the oath they had sworn to each other. “What do you think of my Uncle Tyrion?”

Arya shrugged. “Tyrion is good to my sister but the rest of your family.”

She went into the bushes at the base of the tower, stripped out of her dress and chemise and shimmied into a pair of trousers, tunic and leather jerkin she kept hidden in a leather sack there. 

It was not a secret she and Tommen trained with the squires, but if Lady Caitlyn ever found out where Arya kept her boy clothes she would burn them.

The bushes did not hide Arya as well as she thought, and Tommen watched the shrubbery avidly for flashes of smooth pale skin and small firm breast.

“And the rest of my family?”

“Can go to hell soaked in wildfire for all I care.”

“What did my family ever do to you?”

“Your family killed my father and his household knights, ordered the mass rape of the Riverland’s women and children, murdered almost all the Riverlords, pillaged and then burned down their lands. Your family beat the living shit out of my stupid sister then married her to a ugly dwarf. Why couldn’t they have picked Lancel or Jaime? Now Sansa’s children will be ugly red-haired midgets and she had better not name one after me.”

“None of that would have happened if your brother and father had not rebelled against the throne! Your father started the war when he called Joffrey a bastard!”

“No your uncles Renly and Stannis started it when they called Joffrey a bastard. My father was the idiot who stuck up for their rights, and they repaid his loyalty by having slap fight like a couple of sissies at Storm’s End while his head was chopped off. Robb made it worse when he fought the war in the Riverlands instead of the West and Tyrion fucked up the little bit Robb got right when he took over everything.”

“But you just said you liked Tyrion!”

“No. I said Tyrion is good to my sister. That does not mean I like him. He is still a arsehole.” Arya emerged from the bushes tugging down the hem of her jerkin. “Come on, we will be late if we don’t hurry.”

“Uncle Tyrion saved your life at the Twins!”

“He also stole Uncle Edmure’s castle and locked up his pregnant wife. I would put him on my murder list but then Sansa would start that stupid crying again. Thank the gods for Tyrion, nobody else has the patience to sit up half the night holding Sansa’s hand just because she had a nightmare. The rest of us roll over and go back to sleep. But she’s special.”

“Why was Lady Sansa crying? You said uncle Tyrion is a good husband.”

“Did you miss the part where I said my father’s dead and your stupid brother beat my stupid sister up? Sansa isn’t the kind of person who can just get over being hurt and sad and get on with life. She has to wallow in her emotions it like pig in mud. I love her but gods she can be tiresome. Come on.”

They jogged side by side to where two of the King’s guard where waiting in the shade of the cherry orchard on the island across from the island with the three spire towers.

“You don’t seem overwrought with grief. Lord Eddard was your father too.”

“I’m stronger than Sansa. Hell I’m stronger than Robb and my mother too. They are still stuck on trying to make everything like it was before when Robb was heir of Winterfell, but that’s not going to happen. They need to move on, like I have. Like the rivers, life only goes in one direction and if you keep looking backward you get swept away by the currents.”

Lady Sansa was perfectly beautiful. Breathtaking and perfect as the Sept of Baelor or Queen Cersei’s jewels. A masterpiece wrought by of years of careful cultivation.

Mistress Arya was alluring. Her indomitable personality drew the young men of castle Riverrun like a mountain range majestically daring men to risk life and limb to climb its heights and prove their courage.

Prince Tommen had fallen under Mistress Arya’s spell the day she boldly slice their palms with a dagger and made him swear on pain of a old god’s curse to uphold the bonds of fraternity between their houses first forged in fire and blood by their fathers. 

No one before had ever demanded Tommen’s friendship. No one before had even wanted Tommen’s friendship. 

Tommen did not understand Arya or his compulsion to be near her every waking moment of the day trying to live up to impossible standards and go to bed thinking of her at night - all Tommen knew was that Arya was his sworn friend. The first friend he had ever had, and he liked her. Alot. She was wonderful.

“Take off your fancy jacket. Give it to Kettleblack. Blood does not wash out of gold silk,” Arya said threateningly when they reached where Prince Tommen's guards were waiting.

“How do you know?” Tommen asked shrugging out of the embroidered silk. He ignored the implied menace in Arya's voice. She always made him bleed during practice. It was a given not a threat.

“Robb punched up Tyrion’s face at the Twins. Sansa dabbed his bloody lip with her sleeve because she didn’t have a handkerchief. Tyrion wasn’t all that hurt, but of course Sansa still cried about it. She had to put new sleeves on the dress cause the strains wouldn't wash out.”

“That’s awful. Did Robb apologize?” Tommen asked as he and Arya walked side by side to the practice yard near the gatehouse, and barracks with the King's Guard following behind them.

“Why would he apologize? He’s not sorry and Tyrion isn’t going to forgive him anyway. He’s a hateful little creature.”

“They don’t like each other?”

“Why should they?”

“Because we are all family now!”

Arya grabbed Tommen by two fists full of his shirt and tried to shake sense into him. The King's Guard did not stop her. It seemed to amuse them that Prince Tommen was regularly manhandled by a little girl. They did not seem to understand what Tommen knew for certain. Arya could kill them easily. If she wanted too.

“Tommen don’t be dim witted. Nobody in this family likes each other except you and me and some of the couples like Tyrion and Sansa. That’s why we need each other: you never know when someone in this family is gonna kill you at a wedding, marry you off to a freak or lock you up in a tower and throw away the key. We stick together or they stick it to us.”


End file.
